


Where You Go, I Go

by onedirectionrody



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry's a spy and Louis is his handler, M/M, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 43,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onedirectionrody/pseuds/onedirectionrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Agent Cowell yelled, ‘Remember, lads this is a sacred relationship. Spies and their handlers must be closer than most spouses to survive.’<br/>Which, like, that would be okay, except Harry was staring directly at the boy he fucked in the toilets at the club the night before.”</p><p>In which Harry and Louis are secret agent partners who probably shouldn’t fall in love.</p><p>The title’s a line from Skyfall, by Adele. The story, otherwise, has very little to do with Bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> If you're new to Cody and my (Raven) specific brand of weirdness, welcome! If you're about to sit through yet another one of our ridiculous stories, we sincerely apologize. Except we don't, because, let's face it, we're pretty fab. Sorry we skipped a week! I may or may not have been matchmaking (but it was pretty successful judging by the puppy eyes Cody keeps shooting at his new beau, who is completely wrapped around our boy's little finger). You're welcome, Cody (you ungrateful harlot)! 
> 
> This story is a spy au, which means some violence will be involved. We will post trigger warnings (though we promise not to get too graphic). As far as sex goes, we promise to get too graphic. As if any of you would complain ;).
> 
> Please feel free to follow our fic blog: http://onedirectionrody.tumblr.com/  
> We (and by we, I definitely mean only me) also run a fic rec blog: http://fanficrecommendations.tumblr.com/
> 
> Come visit us, we swear we don't bite. Okay, that's a lie. We don't bite hard. Unless that's one of your kinks. In which case, we refrain from judging. 
> 
> Read, review, and feel free to ask us or our characters anything you want!
> 
> xx Cody and Raven (Rody)

“Well.” Harry looked over the sea of writhing bodies from his spot next to the DJ. “Oi! Malik! How come there aren’t any hot people here?” His friend rolled his eyes, long eyelashes skimming his cheekbones as he refocused on the turntable.

“There are  _plenty_  of hot people, you dick. Your standards are far too high.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled in distaste as a leggy blonde winked appreciatively in his direction.

“She was hot! What the hell are you playing at, Styles?”

“Generic, Z.” Harry pouted. “Everyone here is  _generic._ ”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “H, we live in one of the hottest cities in the world. This is the most exclusive club in that city. By  _definition_  there are no generic people here.”

“Oh, come off it. You’ve played Katy Perry remixes three times in the past hour, and we are,  _by far_ , the hottest people here.”

“Oi! Katy’s not that bad. I keep getting more requests for her shit, anyway.”

“Because people at this club are…”

“Generic. Fine, Styes, they’re generic. But you aren’t exactly looking for your soul mate, are you? Just find something pretty to stick your dick in and stop whinging. Maybe after you get off, you’ll stop being such a twat.”

“Heyyyy! No need to talk like that. You know I hate it when people act like human beings are sex toys.”

“Yeah, well you just spent two hours calling them all robots, H. Do you want to get off, or not?” Zayn replied, his tone flat and cynical. Zayn enjoyed cynicism. Maybe a little too much.

“Fine. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“That’s the plan.” Harry threw a cocky smirk over his shoulder and then stalked to the edge of the dance floor.

There had always been something about Harry that drew people in. When he was little, it had been his big, wide-spaced eyes and the dimple that flashed in his cheek whenever he smiled. Now, he still had those things, but they were accentuated by a square jaw, curls that brushed long eyelashes before he pushed them back with long fingers, and over six feet of toned flesh. Added to a calculated aura of mystery, charm, and danger, and Harry knew he was downright irresistible. All of it had been developed for his career, but Harry wasn’t conflicted about using it to get what he wanted when it came to sex.

Truthfully, Harry Styles had never really been conflicted about anything.

And he certainly wasn’t conflicted about pushing past a group of giggling teenagers wearing too much makeup to get what he wanted.

It would be a man tonight, he decided. One with blue eyes. It had never bothered Harry that he liked both men and women. He got bored too easily to limit himself.

He looked to his right. There was a brunette dancing on the bar, all legs and shoulders. He turned. Harry shrugged. He was pretty, yeah. But his eyes were brown, and Harry wasn’t much into compromising.

Suddenly, a lithe form was pressed against his back, leaning against him as if it were on tip toe to whisper into Harry’s ear. “Who are you looking for, Curly?”

Harry grinned, somehow knowing before he even turned around that he had found the boy he was taking home at the end of the night.

He was not disappointed. Blue, blue eyes looked up at Harry through long lashes.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

Harry smirked, rocking back on his heels to skim his eyes up and down. “Looks like I was looking for you, short stuff.”

The boy crossed his arms and pouted. “We can’t all be giants.”

Harry laughed, towering over him possessively when he caught another man staring at him.

“Oi! Giant with a lack of personal space. D’you want to dance?”

“That depends on what your name is.”

“So if it was Jehoshaphat, you wouldn’t dance with me?”

“Probably not.”

“Fair enough. It’s Louis. You?”

“Harry.”

Harry held his arm out, as gallant as any Prince Charming. Louis tucked his small hand into the crook of his elbow, giggling uncontrollably as Harry began dragging him to the center of the dance floor.

Zayn rolled his eyes again when Harry made eye contact, giving him a thumbs up before transitioning into yet another Katy Perry remix. Harry stuck his tongue out at Zayn over Louis’s head.

“I love this song,” the boy shouted up at Harry, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hips began to swing to the rhythm and Harry pulled him close so he wouldn’t see him wrinkling his nose. And also for other reasons. Like friction.

Louis seemed to like that reason, if the way his back was arching or the way his fingertips were digging into Harry’s shoulders were any indication.

“You like that, don’t you?” Harry whispered dirtily into Louis’s ear, making sure to brush his lips along the lobe.

Louis promptly cracked up, throwing his head back and guffawing until his eyes were red and a little damp.

Harry just watched, stunned.

“Holy shit that was straight out of a bad porno. Where do you get your material?”

Harry didn’t like being made fun of. “Whatever, short stuff. I could have anyone in this club, if I wanted.”

“Maybe,” Louis shrugged, unconcerned, “But, honestly, do you want anyone else here more than you want me?”

Harry’s eyes scanned the crowd. Boring. Boring girls teetering in too-high heels, boring boys in too-tight t-shirts.

And then there was Louis with his laughing eyes, with just this side of too much stubble and a finger-ruffled fringe. The farthest thing from generic in the club, even if he did insist on bopping his head and mouthing the words to “California Girls,” despite the fact that it was winter in London and also they were in the middle of an argument, goddammit, the least he could do was pay attention.

But Louis looked completely unconcerned, though Harry was making him wait for an answer.

“No,” he finally said, when he realized Louis wasn’t going to start squirming anytime soon. “No, I don’t want anyone else here more than I want you.”

Far from leaping into his arms and reenacting the kiss from  _The Notebook_ (which was absolutely  _not_  Harry’s favorite movie) at Harry’s confession, Louis rolled his eyes, flipping his hair in a manner that suggested he was entirely bored. “Great. Riveting. Want to go fuck in the toilet?”

And, obviously Harry had planned on taking him home so they could at least fuck on his new billion-count sheets like gentlemen, but he was kind of liking the idea of being a little wild, so…

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be good.” Harry just barely avoided choking on his own saliva.

And then Louis was tugging insistently on his hand, pulling him through the tightly-packed crowd, shoving his way to the front of the queue for the toilet (to the protests of several girls wearing alarmingly dangerous-looking stilettos, and locking the door before shoving Harry down along with his own trousers and pants. Which. Harry would be almost offended at if he didn’t have a remarkably pretty cock in his mouth.

But, as circumstances were… he was pretty okay with the whole situation. Or, to be more accurate, kind of elated.

“Fucking Christ, Harold,” Louis moaned as Harry bobbed his head.

“‘S Harry,” he pulled off to slur.

“Whatever.” Louis rolled his eyes and wove his fingers between Harry’s curls, pushing him back down.

Harry groaned around Louis’s cock, but he was pretty sure the vibrations were communicated much better than his annoyance, if the way that Louis was throwing his head back and coming down his throat was any indication.

Harry wiped at his mouth, pumping the last of Louis’s orgasm out of him with his hand. “You know, I don’t know what you’ve heard about proper bathroom blowjob etiquette,” he said conversationally, “but you’re supposed to warn a guy.” He tongued at the oversensitive head thoughtfully, watching Louis shudder.

Louis raised one eyebrow, and Harry reluctantly admired how good he was at looking disdainful while still coming down. “As if you would have pulled off.” Harry shrugged. He had a point. “So…”

Harry looked at him blankly. “So?

“So, you gonna fuck me?” Louis looked at him politely and quizzically, like he was asking for the time. Harry was beginning to feel like Louis was always about five seconds ahead of him. It was a novel feeling. Normally, it was Harry who was tapping his toes, waiting for others to catch on.

He was kind of into it.

“Yeah, I can do that.” Trying to get the upper hand, Harry smirked up at him. Louis just snorted. At Harry’s best smirk.  _Who the hell is this guy?_  Harry wondered.

Louis pulled his wallet out of his pants, still casually around his ankles. Harry blinked. They were bright red. How had he not noticed that before? He was normally so observant. It was his  _job_  to be observant. Harry was starting to feel more than a little unsettled.

Casually, Louis handed him a packet of lube and a condom, turned around, and bent over.

Harry just stared. Louis, for what it was worth (and, truthfully, it was worth a lot. Like, probably should have been insured for a couple million), had the best ass Harry had ever seen.

“Well?” he was startled out of his reverie by Louis’s amused voice. “Do you know how to work this, or do you need a how-to video? I’m sure YouTube has something on this.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry said, shucking his trousers quickly.

“Huh.” Louis was peering at him over his shoulder.

“What?”  

“You’re much bigger than I expected you to be.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?”

“Bit of both, really.”

“Do you want this or not?”

“Well, I would prefer it, yeah. But if you think I’m going to, like, beg for it, you’re wrong.”

Harry’s startled laughter turned into a groan when Louis reached behind himself and stroked him. “Okay, okay, I’ll get on with it.”

“Good,” Louis blabbered on as Harry slicked his fingers, “Because I’m pretty sure there are a few angry people out there in serious need of a wee.”

Harry cut the other boy’s snarky voice off, nudging at his hole with his index finger.

“I like your hands,” Louis gasped quietly into the crook of his elbow as Harry pushed in.

“I like your arse,” Harry admitted, leaning his head against the nape of Louis’s neck.

“That’s a pretty common symptom of the human condition, if we’re being honest.” Louis’s reply was strained, two fingers in him now, scissoring. Harry beamed. He knew where he stood with Louis, at least, when it came to fingers up his arse. It was better than nothing.

“Oh stop grinning back there. I can  _hear_  you being all pleased with yourself.”

Harry growled, pulling his fingers out to roll the condom over himself.

Louis whimpered quietly.

“What was that?” Harry’s smirk was back, in full, dimpled, force.

“Shut up. God, what’s taking you so long?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you weren’t going to beg?”

“Hypothetically,” Louis whined, “I might actually beg if you made me. But I wouldn’t like it. And I’d be much more bitey during the actual sex. I have very sharp teeth.”

Harry sighed, shook his head and promptly pushed in. “Oh. Oh wow.”

Louis was white-knuckling the handicap bar, but his voice remained even and condescending. “Oh, what now?”

Harry nosed along Louis’s shoulder, rucking up the front of his shirt to press his palm against his stomach, pushing him back into him even more. “‘S nothing. Just, you feel really, really good.”

“Yes, well. That would be the point of the whole sex thing, yeah?”

Harry snorted and Louis jolted forward. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What was that? Are you okay? Do you need me to pull out?”

Louis groaned, resting his forehead against his wrist. “I’m fine, you blockhead. Just a little sensitive.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Harry asked, trying his hardest not to fidget or shift or  _move_  at all.

“A very motherfucking good way. Holy shit, Harold. Do you honestly not know how this works? MOVE.”

Harry bit his lip and shifted his hips forward tentatively. He was far from the bumbling virgin Louis was making him out to be, but he didn’t exactly have a pain kink and he wasn’t sure Louis would tell him if he was hurting him. He was kind of delicate, Harry realized, all tiny bones and soft skin.

“I can hear you thinking, too.”

“You can hear me doing a lot of things, apparently. We don’t… we don’t have to keep going if it hurts, really.”

“Oh my god!” Louis growled. He whipped his face around to look at Harry, all flushed cheeks and red-bitten lips and glassy eyes. “It feels really fucking good, okay? Like Jesus fuck what even is your dick?”

“Um…” Harry said dimly.

“Whatever. If you don’t start moving in the next three seconds, I am cutting it off and taking it home with me to use as my new favorite sex toy. Final offer.”

Harry started moving.

And immediately groaned at the shivers crawling up his spine. He was too close already, but the way it felt was almost painful, it was so good.

And Louis was so responsive, trying and failing to stay quiet, bucking his hips, arching his back. Harry trailed the tips of his blunt nails across the bumps of his spine and Louis shivered with his whole body. “Fuck, can you? Faster?” he nearly whimpered. Harry hissed through his teeth and dug his fingers into Louis’s hips, feeling the sharp bones move under his skin. He felt every muscle in Louis’s body tense up as he brushed his prostate.

“Fuck, Harry. What are you doing to me?” he babbled, trying to get a hand on himself. Harry shook his head no against the back of Louis’s neck, molding his body against the smaller boy’s so he could cover his hands with his own, larger ones.

“No, babe. Just me, yeah? You think you can do it?” Harry asked, his lips brushing at Louis’s earlobe.

Louis arched back into Harry even farther, leaning his head against Harry’s shoulder, and was suddenly coming, mouth open and eyes screwed up shut.

Harry’s body was shocked into coming by the suddenness of Louis’s orgasm, and Harry was almost afraid at how intense it was, sure his eyes were crossing, and not so sure he would stay conscious.

The two boys slid to the ground, just as someone pounded on the door.

“That should be the end, right? Only, this is a loo, and we all need to use it.”

They looked at each other and groaned, half-heartedly wiping themselves off with paper towels and pulling their clothes back on.

“Right,” Louis said, chucking a last roll of towels in the bin. “It was nice to meet you, Harold.”

“It’s  _Harry_ , you dolt.”

Louis rolled his eyes and walked out. Belatedly, Harry realized that he didn’t even have his number.

“Oi! Lou!” but the boy was already nearly running to the exit, grabbing an alarmingly puppy-ish boy from the bar on the way out.

Harry traipsed up to Zayn, who was playing the new  _Arctic Monkeys_  song. 

“Oh my god,” he said, pulling his headphones off. “You look pretty fucked out, Styles.”

“I feel like my brains were sucked out through my cock,” Harry admitted. “I think I’m just going to head back home. And, you know, maybe have a bubble bath or something.”

Zayn nodded slowly. “Sounds good. You sure you can drive?”

“I haven’t had a single drink all night.”

Zayn cut his eyes at him, scanning up and down his body, which was still swaying slightly. “You sure you can drive?”

Harry sighed and flicked him the keys to his Audi R8. “Call me a cab.”

#

Harry’s phone started to buzz at what felt like midnight but was actually the next morning. He groaned, reaching out to shut off his alarm before stumbling over to his wardrobe. A simple white button down and a pair of dark skinny jeans later, and he was on his way out the door, grabbing a piece of toast from his roommate’s plate as he passed.

“Hey! You know I am serious about food, you… you!” Harry waited patiently while the boy stuttered. “You food-stealer!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Nialler, you’re getting a thesaurus for your birthday. Or Saint Patrick’s Day. Is your birthday, by any chance, Saint Patrick’s day?”

“Oh fuck off, Secret Agent Styles. You excited?”

Harry grinned. He was beyond excited. Years and years of training, and he was finally going to begin working for England. “Fucking thrilled, mate. I meet my handler today.”

“Right. Just… try not to fuck him within ten minutes of meeting him?”

“Please. You know nerdy boys aren’t my type.”

Niall chuckled and waved him off. “Don’t be late, H. First impressions and all that, yeah?”

Harry smirked and grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack. “See you later, boring computer genius.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good day, super spy.”

Harry saluted and ran out to grab the elevator. The door would have closed, but a pretty blonde in a red dress held it for him. He winked at her automatically, and she blushed. Sometimes, it was good to be a super spy.

#

“This isn’t going to be a simple thing, people,” Agent Cowell said, looking sternly into the group. “It’s going to be difficult, every second of it – emotionally, mentally, and physically. By the end of this week, you will have the partner you will keep for the rest of your life. This is more binding than a marriage. You are going to have to be able to trust each other with your lives. We are pairing you with a person on your skill level, based on your previous schooling. To put an emphasis on how important this bond is, we are moving you into headquarters for the entire week so you can live with that person. If you don’t like the other person, tough shit. Learn to love him or her, or get the fuck out of MI-5.”

Harry tensed. He had never had any trouble getting along with others, but this was a big deal. This was forever-type shit. And graduating first in his class meant that a lot would be expected of him and his partner. His teeth started worrying at his lower lip.

“We will start with our two most promising. Styles, Tomlinson, front and center.”

Harry straightened his posture and walked as gracefully as he could manage to the front, where a smaller man was already waiting, posture rigid. The first thing Harry noticed was that he had what was probably the best arse he had ever seen. The boy turned to look at him, a horrified expression on his face.

Agent Cowell yelled, “Remember, lads this is a sacred relationship. Spies and their handlers must be closer than most spouses to survive.”

Which, like, that would be okay, except Harry was staring directly at the boy he fucked in the toilets at the club the night before.


	2. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _THERE IS NO CHEMISTRY SWITCH, LOU._
> 
> Louis’s teeth were working away at his bottom lip again. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Please. The sex was distinctly mediocre. I’ve already forgotten about all about Harry Styles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Cody's first chapter! There is also an inside joke about his new boyfriend in it. Alex is possibly snarkier than Louis.

Chapter Two: Louis

_This. Is. Not. Happening. Clearly I’m losing my mind. I just need to close my eyes and breathe and then I’ll realize that my new partner is some other ridiculously tall, dopey, curly-haired sex God. Right._

Louis squeezed his eyelids shut and, after uttering his hundredth silent prayer, risked a glance to his right. He let out an almost inaudible sigh. No one was there.

 

“Looking for me?” Only Louis’s years of extensive training kept him from responding to the low, raspy voice by jumping out of his shoes and making friends with the ceiling tiles some dozen feet above them. Positive that his face hadn’t betrayed his inner turmoil in the slightest, he shot Harry the most cursory of glances.

 

“Don’t flatter yourself. I saw all I needed to see the other night, Harold. Frankly, I wasn’t that impressed.” He repressed a satisfied grin as he felt, more than saw, the much larger boy flinch beside him.

 

“Hey, wait a second. Are you mad at me? I swear I didn’t know that we were going to be partners last night…” Harry’s uneven, indisputably hurt voice was enough to give Louis pause. But only for a moment.

 

“Mad? Don’t be ridiculous.” His voice, he was sure, was frosty enough to lend his words a nearly-tangible quality; icy projectiles hurled directly at the heart of his new partner. “There wasn’t anything memorable enough about that night to stir within the deepest pits of my soul anything but indifference. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened.”

 

Louis turned, his excellent posture never compromised, and took a step away from the now dumb-founded Harry. In his mind, he viewed himself as the epitome of disinterest and grace as he left his partner quivering in his tracks. A perfect ice princess.

 

In reality, this effect was ruined by Louis’s slight limp. A limp which, of fucking course, was the result of his wild night in the toilet with none other than Harry Styles. He balled his hands into small, tight fists and tried to look dignified as he limped away.

 

“Lou! Wait!” The already too familiar voice rolled over him, made rough by a genuine concern that made the breath catch in his throat. Dammit.

 

“My name is _Louis_ , not Lou. What could you possible want now, Harold?” He spat without breaking his uneven stride.

 

“Uh… well, I noticed you were limping. I just wanted to make sure that you were… I mean I didn’t… did I?” Louis could feel the other boy crowding him from behind, too closely shadowing his every step.

 

He spun around. “How very perceptive of you, _partner_.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You weren’t my first nor, come to think of it, my most recent toilet fuck you know. I’m fine. Now can we both just focus on work?” Narrowed, icy blue eyes stared Harry down until he bowed his head in acquiescence.

 

“Good. I’ll see you later for training.”

 

*

 

Louis slammed the door to the restroom stall shut behind him.

 

 _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuckfuck. FUCK._ He could feel himself worrying away the top layer of skin on his bottom lip. It was one of the first bad habits he had learned to kick during his training. But sometimes, when he was exceedingly and royally stressed, he relapsed. Like now, for instance.

 

Who the hell did this Harry Styles think he was? Louis loved his job. Hell, he basically lived for his job. And he wasn’t about to let some lousy (okay, maybe fuckingbrilliant was a better word, but that’s beside the point DAMMIT) one-night stand jeopardize his years of hard work. He was better than that. Louis Tomlinson did not freak out, except when he did.

 

 _WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?_ Harry was refusing to meet his own carefully constructed disdain with anything but whole-hearted regard for his well-being. It was sweet and endearing and so freaking attractive that it just wasn’t fair. How was Louis supposed to do his job, which required constant composure, with the single most maddening person on the planet as his partner?

 

He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick message to Liam, his best friend. _So my new partner at work is that guy I fucked in the toilet last night…_

 

Just sending the text allowed some of the stored up tension in his muscles to dissipate. Liam was calm and rational, Louis’s more grounded self. He would know exactly what to say.

  
The other boy’s response was instantaneous. _WHAT? OH MY GOODNESS, LOUIS. NO! WHAT IF SOMEONE FINDS OUT? YOU COULD LOSE YOUR JOB! BUSINESS + PLEASURE = HOMELESS. OR JOBLESS, RATHER. THIS IS WHY TOILET HOOKUPS ARE NOT THINGS THAT SHOULD EVER HAPPEN. LOU!_

 

It was all Louis could do not to chuck his phone into the toilet.

 

_Gee, I’m fine Li. Thanks for asking. Everything will be fine. It was a meaningless fuck. I’m perfectly content pretending that it never happened._

_BUT I THOUGHT THE SEX WAS UNBELIEVABLE? YOU CAN’T JUST TURN OFF THAT KIND OF CHEMISTRY. THERE IS NO CHEMISTRY SWITCH, LOU._

Louis’s teeth were working away at his bottom lip again.

 

_Please. The sex was distinctly mediocre. I’ve already forgotten about all about Harry Styles._

 

*

 

“Trust falls.” Agent Cowell bellowed to the line of new agents. “I know it sounds elementary, but the bond you forge with your new partner is of the upmost important. It must be utterly indestructible and, as such, requires you to trust your partner unconditionally. So…” He gestured to the enormous expanse of room behind him. A line of ladders, one for each partnership, stood along the back wall. Each led up to a miniature balcony that was roughly ten feet off the ground.

 

“Each of you will be falling from one of those balconies. It is your partner’s job to catch you. If you fail to catch your partner, you will both have to search elsewhere for employment. Now get to work!”

 

Of. Course. The way this day had been going, he really shouldn’t have been surprised. Louis stepped up to his ladder and made his way up to the balcony with trembling hands. He closed his eyes and stepped up to the edge. He knew harry was right below, all solid biceps, encouraging emerald eyes, and soft curls. But he couldn’t do it. It was one of the reasons they never sent him into the field. He was terrified of heights.

 

Teeth tearing into his bottom lip, Louis took a step back. He could hear Harry’s voice wafting up to him, but his partner’s words were drowned out by a persistent white noise. He whipped his head to either side, trying to locate its source, but the suddenly glaring lights obscured his vision. Everything was blurred and buzzing. His senses were overwhelmed by a roiling mass of assaulting stimuli that rendered him incapable of registering any one stimulus in particular. The breath stopped in his lungs…

 

And then he was enveloped by big, warm arms and the clean smell of aftershave.

 

“It’s okay, Lou. I’ve got you.” He knew he should insist, obstinately, that his partner address him by his full name, but he was too distracted by the impossibly large hands that were currently rubbing soothing circles against the small of his back to care. Louis burrowed his head into his partner’s chest and let just let himself _breathe_. Slowly, the panic that had taken hold of his sense began to subside.

 

“I’m fine.” He muttered with a light shove. “Now get down there and catch me, Styles.”

 

Harry grinned a wide, totally unfair, grin. “Always. Just have a little faith, yeah?”And with that, his partner was scurrying back down the ladder, leaving Louis with a small half-smile plastered on his face.

 

This time, once Harry was in position, Louis promptly turned around, counted to three and dropped. As promised, his partner was there to catch him (with ease, much to Louis’s chagrin. Damn those biceps).

 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about! Look at that _trust!_ ” Agent Cowell yelled from across the room. A bit shocked, Louis quickly surveyed the other pairs of agents. No one else had yet to attempt the trust fall.

 

“I want all of you to watch Tomlinson and Styles from now on. They’ve clearly already worked very hard to forge their lasting bond!”

 

In the face of this unexpected compliment, he felt himself shifting away from Harry. He knew that his cheeks were turning a deep red and suddenly even standing beside the other boy was too much. It was their first day, and already Harry had gotten closer than he should have. What’s worse, he had saved Louis. Louis _hated_ being saved. It attested to a vulnerability he couldn’t afford to have.

 

“Lou..”

 

“Harold, no.” He knew where this was going. “You were a great partner up there, okay? But that’s it. Stop reading so much into things. I’ll see you later for move in, okay?”

 

He brushed past Harry without waiting for a response.

 

*

 

“Alright, boys. This apartment will be your new home for the duration of your partnership. You should learn to love it because it’s all you’re going to get.” Agent Cowell barked before exiting the room.

 

Louis was going to have to try _really_ hard to learn to love this apartment. It consisted of three rooms: a miniscule bathroom that did NOT, to Louis’s annoyance, include a bathtub (no more bubble baths while drinking martinis and watching Moulin Rouge), a kitchen that was about the same size (which Louis didn’t really mind because all of his attempts at cooking generally ended in explosions that rivaled those encountered in the field), and a slightly larger bedroom. Oh, and the bedroom had bunk beds. _BUNK BEDS._

 

Louis didn’t even bother to suppress his groan.

 

“Everything okay, Lou?” Harry’s brows were knitted together in concern.

 

“It’s _Louis_. And I’m just tired. I think I’m going to head to bed. Dibs on the top bunk!” He could have sworn he heard Harry mutter something like “ironic choice” as he climbed up to his bed, but he chose to ignore it.

 

“Sleep well, partner!” Harry chimed cheerfully before turning out the lights and jumping into his own bed. Unfortunately, Louis did not sleep well. In fact, he barely slept at all.

 

He was kept awake by the sounds of Harry groaning as he thrashed around in his sleep, undoubtedly fighting off imaginary demons of monstrous proportions. It was devastating. Each low, almost incoherent plea for help threatened to wrench Louis’s heart out of his chest. On more than one occasion, clearly driven by exhaustion into a state of delusional compassion, he contemplated going down to comfort the other boy. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and struggled to force away all thoughts of his partner. Harry Styles just might be the death of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?


	3. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Harry continued, “How exactly are we going to deal with the fact that we fucked the other night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter! Thank the attractive Australian musicians who are visiting today for the earliness :)

The first thing Harry noticed was that he was fucking freezing. His knees were practically touching his nose, he was so curled in on himself. The second thing was that it felt ridiculously, painfully early. “Ugh,” he groaned, checking the display of his phone. “Why am I awake at fucking 4:30 in the morning?”

 

An answering groan sounded from above him. “Why are you talking, rather loudly and obnoxiously, might I add, about being awake at fucking 4:30 in the morning?

 

 _Oh. Oh right,_ Harry thought. _That explains why I’m seriously tense and slept for, like, 3 hours._

“Sorry, Lou,” Harry sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Wait. Did you… did you steal my blanket?”

 

“It’s cold in here,” Louis sulked. “And we discussed this, _Harold_. Louis is my name, not ‘Lou.’”

 

“Yeah, well, my name isn’t short for anything. You know that right? It’s just Harry. So.” He sighed, trying to remember that Louis was known as a brilliant handler with a great future. And that there were probably more annoying people. Somewhere. Somewhere he had never been, but probably somewhere.

 

“Lou-eyyy,” Harry whined, emphasizing the second syllable of his partner’s name.

 

“Yes, Harold?” Louis replied.

 

“I _told_ you. That isn’t my name!”

 

“At this point, you’re lucky I’m not calling you ‘that asshole who won’t fucking let me sleep! What do you want?”

 

“My blanket. Please?” Harry added sheepishly. He really had been tossing and turning all night No wonder Louis was angry.

 

 The blanket whapped him in the forehead. “I’m sorry, Louis,” he slurred, drifting off.

 

A quiet sigh was his only answer, but Harry grinned. He’d never met anyone who could stay mad at him before. He doubted Louis would be any different.

 

#

 

A timid voice darted in and out of his consciousness. “Um… Harold? Harry? Harry!”

 

 “Wha-what?” Harry startled as a hand grasped his shoulder.

 

Louis was sitting on the edge of his bed. His hair was shooting every which way, his eyes were bloodshot and shadowed by dark bags. “Sorry, mate,” he said quietly. “It’s still early, but we should talk now, when I’m exhausted and slightly befuddled. I’m bad at saying serious things when I’m wide awake.” He rubbed at his eyes with two tiny fists, and Harry barely resisted the urge to coo at him and drape a blanket over his shoulders.

 

“Tea?” he asked instead, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching until his back made a satisfying popping noise. Louis wrinkled his nose

 

“You really ought to get that checked out, Harold. It can’t be normal. Sorry, sorry. I meant Harry. Sorry.” Louis looked slightly panicked. It was alarmingly endearing.

 

“You can call me Harold if you really want to call me Harold. But then I get to call you Lou or Lewis or any derivative of your name that I want to. It’s only fair.” He scratched the skin on his stomach and stood narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the top bunk.

 

“How good are you at making breakfast? Louis tilted his head.

 

“Ace,” Harry answered arrogantly. His fry up was legendary in uni. Best hangover cure in the world.

 

“Then make me some eggs and I’ll consider it.”

 

They stumbled out to the kitchen, and Harry began to crack some eggs into a frying pan. “So are we going to talk about it?” Harry started. He was using all of his best tricks to keep himself calm – breathing slow, keeping his heart rate down, concentrating really, really hard on the eggs – but he was flailing around and screaming on the inside.

 

Because Louis was about to walk away, he just knew it. He was going to resign, and then Harry couldn’t o his dream job. He’d end up at, god forbid, a desk job, filing paperwork instead of wearing tuxedos and seducing gorgeous women who carried knives in thigh-sheaths and yeah, okay, maybe he had watched a few too many Bond flicks when he was 13 with acne and nerdy glasses, but he _deserved_ this. He had worked his _ass_ off for this. He _needed_ it – more than he cared to admit.

 

“Harry? Harold? Jesus. Styles??” Harry glanced up and blue, blue tired eyes finally came into focus. “Where did you just go?”

 

“The thing is,” Harry said very firmly. “The thing is, I kind of need you to be my partner. I’ll be really, really good, I swear. I’ll crack all the hardest cases wide open and I’ll work really hard. But I want this job so fucking badly and I need you to do it with me. So, please?” Harry used to think he was above begging,

 

Turned out, Harry was not above begging.

 

“Whoa, whoa.” Louis put his hands out, palms up, like Harry was some kind of startled animal. Which, judging by his shaking hands and the most-likely-panicked expression on his face, wasn’t far off.

 

“I’m not walking out either. Breathe, kid. We just need to drink some tea and eat some eggs and, I don’t know, talk about our feelings and paint each other’s toenails or some shit. But we are going to be fine.”

 

Harry sighed, some of the pressure off his shoulders. “Can you make the tea? I make shit tea.”

 

“Well mine is legendary, I’ll have you know. Look at that, perfect partners already.” Louis rolled his eyes sarcastically, but there was a hint of relief in his voice that made Harry realize he had been just as scared.

 

Louis Tomlinson, for whatever reason, needed this as badly as he did. He was not alone.

 

Which, yeah, was sort of the point of a partner, he supposed.

 

They sat down at the tiny kitchen table, facing each other. Harry dished out the eggs on buttered pieces of toast and Louis poured tea into mugs, setting out a bowl of sugar and some milk.

 

“At least everything’s well-stocked,” Louis pointed out almost timidly.

 

“One thing can be said for the MI-5,” Harry began.

 

“They’re thorough,” Louis chimed in at the same time that Harry finished the joke. They grinned at each other and the tension broke for a second.

 

“So,” they both started. Louis gestured wildly for Harry to speak, shoving his toast in his mouth.

 

“So,” Harry continued, “How exactly are we going to deal with the fact that we fucked the other night?”

 

The toast went down the wrong pipe and Louis coughed violently. Harry kind of flailed his arms in response, wanting to help, but not knowing where they stood on the whole touching thing. He finally decided to bring him a large glass of ice water, which Louis gulped greedily, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Not that Harry was staring at his throat.

 

“Blunt, aren’t you?” Louis finally choked out, his voice hoarse and his eyes watering. Which was certainly not a state he planned on seeing Louis in again, Harry reminded himself.

 

Right. No blowjobs. No blowjobs _ever_. Harry kind of wanted to cry a little.

 

“Sometimes,” Harry admitted.

 

“Good to know.”

 

“Anyway,” Harry asked again, “How are we dealing with this?”

 

“I vote we solidly ignore it,” Louis said.

 

“So that’s it?”

 

“Yep. That’s it. No mentioning it to each other or our friends, no thinking about it when we wank and _definitely_ no joking about it.”

 

“Right,” Harry said. “That seems best.” His stomach cramped a little, and he pushed the rest of his eggs away.

 

“Right.” Louis pushed his plate away too. Both heard the drop of something against the door.

 

“I’ll get it.” Harry rushed over, finding the _Daily Telegraph_. “Do you think this is a complimentary perk, or part of the first challenge?” Harry asked, tossing it on the table between them.

 

Louis shrugged. “Throw me the sports?”

 

“Fine. But I get the funnies.” Both boys read the paper, exchanging sections every few minutes. Suddenly, there was a tentative nudge against Harry’s foot under the table. He jumped, but relaxed when a small foot hooked around his ankle and began swinging their legs back and forth.

 

And if he caught himself ducking behind the travel section to hide a grin, no one else would ever have to know.

 

“So when did you know?” Harry asked conversationally.

 

“Hmmm?” Louis hummed, groping from behind the business section for his tea. Harry nudged it closer to him and Louis grinned at him in gratitude.

 

“When did you know you wanted to be an agent?”

 

Louis set the paper to the side, then wrapped slender fingers around his mug, giving Harry his full attention. “So we’re doing this right now?”

 

“Louis, we are literally given one week before we stop all the bonding exercises and start training for missions. We have to be prepared totrust each other fully. I want to know everything about you.” Harry didn’t add (at least not out loud) that he was also incredibly curious.

 

“Fine.” Louis’s shoulders tensed, and Harry wondered if he’d started with too personal a question. “I was around 12, flamboyant as fuck, and my stepdad didn’t want me to be a queer. All I wanted to do was act, but he kept putting me in footie camps, because I was pretty athletic. Of course, some of the assholes on the team started beating me up after practice, so I picked up martial arts and self-defense, stuff like that. I ended up being weirdly good at it _,_ and one of my trainers was an ex-agent. He kind of took me under his wing, told my stepdad that acting lessons would be good for undercover work later. It was supposed to be just an excuse for me to keep acting, but he just seemed so proud that I was doing something masculine, you know? He left when I was 16, but by then, it wasn’t just an excuse. Somewhere along the line, I just… fell in love with it.”

 

Harry nodded. “Your stepdad sounds like a complete prat.”

 

Louis lips quirked up at the corner in acknowledgement. “Kinda was. I’m not sure where he is now but I bet he still is. When did you know?”

 

Harry tugged at the curls at the back of his neck. “Nothing interesting like that. I sort of just loved Bond films and my mom and dad had the money to get me the best training. Or, my mom and her husband. My dad was more of a sperm donor, to be honest.”

 

Louis swung their feet together again, squeezing Harry’s hand across the table for a moment. “Favorite film?”

 

“Oh, _Love Actually_ , for sure” Louis cackled at that, but answered “ _Titanic_ ” when Harry asked him in return.

 

“Green,” Harry offered.

 

“Red,” Louis responded.

 

“1 older sister.”

 

“4 younger sisters.”

 

“Holmes Chapel.”

 

“Doncaster.”

 

“Wait. What time is it?”

 

“Late!”

 

#

 

The boys showed up 10 minutes late for roll call, but their arms were linked.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character asks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis smiled. Harry Styles was a complete anomaly. On the one hand, he was this incredibly fit and skilled secret agent. He put himself into dangerous situations daily, and always came out on top (no pun intended… okay, maybe a little… LOOK THE SEX WAS FANTASTIC, OKAY, DO NOT JUDGE ME). Yet, on the other hand he was this domestic goofball who aspired to be Baby Spice and was obsessed with his sister. Then, on yet another hand (God, that boy has too many layers), he was this super-suave-sex-machine that turned heads every time he walked into a club. 
> 
> Whatever god decided that Harry Styles was a good idea had a very cruel sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii!
> 
> So we've apparently decided to include "Wannabe" by The Spice Girls in every fic Cody and I write together. Cute, right?
> 
> In other news, an Australian rockstar "followed me like a puppy" this week, Cody left me for the rest of the summer, and Alex (Cody's boyfriend) is about to be up all night to get lucky (NO that was not a reference to that article in GQ. DON'T GET ME STARTED ON IT).
> 
> Enjoy Cody's Louis! (Cody might secretly _be_ this Louis, btw)

“So partnering with the extremely attractive sex God is going... well?" Liam's eyebrows were inching their way up his forehead, quickly encroaching upon the territory of his hairline.

Louis nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, INCREDIBLY well. We've developed our own routine and it's foolproof. There hasn't been a single assignment yet that we haven't annihilated. Which, I mean, was to be expected with me on the team, but who knew Hazza would prove to be so efficient."

"Hazza?" The other boy's dark brown, puppy dog eyes narrowed to tiny slits.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Li. HAZZA. We've gotten into the habit of using these ridiculous pet names while we work. You know, to make the assignments more amusing. It's a completely reasonable thing to do." Louis reached for his pink bendy straw and took another sip of his apple martini.

It had been his idea to drag Liam out for a night at the bar (which, in a pure stroke of coincidence that he hadn't brought about in the slightest, happened to be the same bar at which he first met Harry). Though his more reserved best friend normally wasn't one for going out, he had made an exception when Louis whined (with much dignity, of course) that he wanted to celebrate his recent successes at work. But what he didn't tell Liam was that the type of celebration he had in mind required lots of alcohol and beautiful naked men. Oops.

So while Liam was slowly nursing his carefully concocted lemon water, Louis surveyed the dance floor for prospects of the male sex God variety. Though the light directly above the bar was dim, tonight a hyperactive strobe flashed neon pinks and greens and oranges across the dancers in rapid succession. This vibrant backlight rendered each moving form a glowing, featureless silhouette. Combined with the slight gleam of the wood paneled dance floor (undoubtedly caused by layers of perspiration and spilt alcohol), which made the writhing forms appear as if they were dancing on water, the effect was ethereal. Louis smiled.

“Li.” He said, flashing the other boy a devious smile. “Watch my drink for a minute, will you?”

“But, Lou…” He could almost hear his best friend’s internal reproach.

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver.” Louis bolted towards the hoard of dancers.

He danced his way through the crowd, baby blue eyes on full alert. Immediately he spotted a myriad of promising forms with glittering predatory eyes that assured him of their interest. He stalked toward each, ready to give each a more thorough inspection.

Ugh, brown eyes. Skillfully, Louis twirled out of the grasp of the first, well-muscled gentleman.

Ugh, blue eyes. Once again, Louis pirouetted out of the way of another set of grasping hands.

Oh, he’s cu… nevermind. He has straight hair. What about him? Too short. Him? No tattoos. No dimples, no biceps, no big hands, no no NO. Convinced that he had surveyed the owner of every cock in sight, and satisfied with none, Louis returned to the bar.

“Well that was fast. I didn’t even see you run off to the toilets.” Liam, a firm believer in pacing himself, was now halfway done with his water.

He shot his friend the biggest glare he could muster. “IT WAS ONE TIME, LIAM. ONE TIME. And I’ll have you know that I didn’t run off with anyone, thank you very much. I didn’t see anyone who was my type.” His best friend shot him another one of those infuriatingly skeptical looks.

“Mhmmm. No green-eyed, curly-haired, large adorable puppies, then?” Liam said in a voice so sugary sweet he could all but feel the other boy’s teeth rotting.

“Well, no. But that’s really beside the point.”

“So, let me ask again. Partnering with the extremely attractive sex God is going well?”

Louis glared. “Just shut up and drink your water.”

*

“I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY WANT.”

“Nooooooo.” Louis groaned into his pillow. He could faintly detect the marvelous odor of Eggs Benedict, but even that didn’t fully eradicate his need to strangle his partner.

“I WANNA, I WANNA, I WANNA, I WANNA, I WANNA REALLY REALLY REALLY ZIGAZIG AH.”

“Christ.” Louis threw off his covers and climbed down off his bunk. Harry was bustling around in their tiny kitchen, already heaping eggs onto two plates. He couldn’t help but smile. “Really, Harold? The Spice Girls? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry grinned, green eyes beaming through his long curls. “Everyone loves the Spice Girls. And you know that I am Baby Spice. That girl and I would have been best mates for life.”

“Well there isn’t any arguing with that.” Louis choked down a laugh. “You’re nothing if not a little princess. Maybe we should start weaving flowers through your hair so you look the part as well.”

“OH MY GOD I SHOULD DO THAT FOR HALLOWEEN. WHY HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE? IT WOULD LOOK SO GOOD.” Louis watched, dumbfounded, as Harry’s entire face lit up.

“Dammit, Styles. I quit.” He dropped to the ground and assumed the fetal position, completely overcome by laughter. “I. Just. Can’t. With. You.” He choked out in between breaths.

“Well then I guess you can’t eat this either, can you?” Harry plopped their breakfast plates onto the dining table.

Louis jumped to his feet and sprinted the two steps to the table. “I think I’ll recover.” He then proceeded to stuff his face as if he were alone with the pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving morning. To be fair, he couldn’t really be expected to hold back. Harry was a fantastic cook. As in, he was almost as good at cooking as he was at sex. And since Louis wasn’t going to be having sex with Harry ever again, he was damn well going to eat all of the food that boy put in front of him. It had become part of their routine.

He heard Harry chuckle and looked up to see the other boy staring at him. “Whaddyuh lauckinn ahht?” Louis gasped through his food.

“Nothing. You just remind me of Gemma. She always devoured anything I put in front of her too. It’s like she was stuck in a perpetual state of starvation, poor girl.” The other boy looked down at the table and grinned to himself.

“You really miss her, don’t you?” He asked after he finally managed to clear his mouth of food.

“Yeah, I do. I love my sister more than almost anyone else on this entire planet. She’s my best friend.” The overwhelming affection in his voice was all but palpable.

Louis smiled. Harry Styles was a complete anomaly. On the one hand, he was this incredibly fit and skilled secret agent. He put himself into dangerous situations daily, and always came out on top (no pun intended… okay, maybe a little… LOOK THE SEX WAS FANTASTIC, OKAY, DO NOT JUDGE ME). Yet, on the other hand he was this domestic goofball who aspired to be Baby Spice and was obsessed with his sister. Then, on yet another hand (God, that boy has too many layers), he was this super-suave-sex-machine that turned heads every time he walked into a club.

Whatever god decided that Harry Styles was a good idea had a very cruel sense of humor. Louis snorted.

“What’s wrong, Lou?” Just like that, Harry’s entire expression shifted from one of unconditional admiration to concern.

“Nothing, Hazza. We’re just going to be late for work!”

“Ah!” The other boy jumped out of his chair and bolted for the door. “Let’s go!” Even as Louis ran to join him he knew that they wouldn’t be late. Being late wasn’t part of their routine.

*

The next few days were kind of a blur for Louis, characterized by a steadily escalating ridiculousness that took his partnership with Harry to a new level.

“Way to go, wonder boy.” Louis had cooed over their headset after Harry had successfully returned from gathering some information on an alleged terrorist group in California.

“Thanks, wonder bum.” Harry had responded, making Louis glad that his partner was miles away and couldn’t see him blush.

Louis struggled to think up new, equally bizarre, pet names to call Harry upon his successful completion of each mission. Unfortunately, this was proving to be more difficult that he, sass master extraordinaire, had been expecting. Harry had arrived in Baghdad hours ago with some of the agency’s more experienced personnel. It was more of a learning experience for the both of them than anything, but Harry had still been given the task of covertly observing a meeting between two prominent (and supposedly corrupt) political figures in the area. It wasn’t the most difficult of assignments, but it wasn’t one the agency would normally give to first years due to its magnitude. They were putting a lot of faith in his partnership with Harry.

But as far as he could tell, everything had gone well. He had guided Harry into the designated building undetected and had already described the building’s internal layout to him in great detail. The rest was up to Harry, and he was positive that the other boy would emerge, as always, successful. Which meant that Louis needed a new pet name.

“I’m on my way out!” The familiar, raspy voice echoed over the headset not twenty minutes later.

Louis silently cursed himself. “Did you complete the objective?”

“Please, BubbleBumbkins, with whom do you think you’re speaking?”

“The man who got you into that place alive, that’s who. Now get back home… stud muffin.” DAMMIT. MAYBE HE’LL GIVE THAT ONE TO ME. IT WAS A LONG DAY.

He heard Harry snort. “That was weak, Lou. I expected much better from you.”

Louis sighed. “Just get your ass home before I decide to change your flight details and give you a 75 hour delay in Antarctica.”

“Roger that.” The victorious grin was evident in Harry’s voice. Cheeky bastard.

*

By the time Harry returned from this latest mission, Louis had already resolved to redeem himself. As soon as the larger boy entered their apartment, Louis shouted “VICTORY DANCE,” jumped on their dining table and began to twerk. Yes, twerk. Which really entailed him trying to act as if he were having a seizure, but so be it. The road to redemption wasn’t always a dignified one.

In response, Harry began to booty pop his way over to the table. And, Louis had to admit, for a boy who didn’t even have that much booty to pop, he was alarmingly good at it. Harry fucking Styles, everyone.

“So, can this become part of our routine?” Harry asked him in between sobs of laughter after they had fallen, exhausted, to the floor.

“Why yes, Harold. I think it can.” Louis had never been more thrilled to be able to twerk on the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. Share your post-traumatic twerking stress disorder issues, or ask good ol' Louis, Harry, Liam, Niall, and/or Zayn your burning questions. Personally, if I had the opportunity, I'd ask them all to put their newly acquired biceps away before they kill us all.


	5. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Their methods are beyond unorthodox,” Agent Cowell said later, guzzling beers at a nearby bar with some of the other agents, “and who the fuck knows what is going on with their relationship. But I think they may be the best team I’ve ever seen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so sorry this is late! Cody and I and all of our friends went to a beach house for the weekend and I didn't have my computer with me :(((

Most teams prepped for the last series of tests by cramming, studying binder after binder of renowned criminals, brushing up on foreign languages and poisonous plants.

 

Some of the test would be written – a mélange of facts all members of the MI-5 should know.

 

Then, there were always the basic fitness tests.

 

Next, there was a simulation of a situation, some sort of adrenaline-rush of a mission, with fires, explosions, maybe some hand-to-hand combat.

 

If both members of the team completed the exercises up to there with high enough scores in a certain timely manner they became fully-accredited members of the MI-5.

 

Then came the fun part.

 

There are hundred s of legends about the MI-5, tales of initiation rituals and stunts.

 

None was more well-known or terrifying than “The Course.” The Course changed every year. The rumor was that it only got more difficult. A challenging, painful, and in four separate cases, deadly, obstacle course, all members of the MI-5 were required to participate in it. The handler from a control room with a map and a headset, the field agent from the course.

 

Blindfolded.

 

Suffice it to say that on the night before the test, the MI-5 flats were all but silent, the absence of noise only broken by the sounds of frantically flipping paper and the whistling of tea kettles.

 

Then, on the second floor, there was a loud crash, followed by giggling and a beeping microwave.

 

“Get off me, Lou. The popcorn’s ready!”

 

Because on the night before the most challenging day of their lives, Harry and Louis were watching animated children’s films.

 

“Here’s the thing, Styles,” Louis said, flicking a piece of popcorn into his own mouth and wiping his hands on the ragged hems of Harry’s flannel pajama pants.  “If we’re going to watch Disney movies, I’m going to expect you to sing along.”

 

“As if I would consider doing anything else, Special Agent Tomlinson.” Harry stretched out on the couch, making Louis squawk in indignation as his feet pushed him to the far side.

 

“Technically,” Louis said, scrambling to settle himself in the dip between Harry’s calves. “We aren’t special agents until we pass the test tomorrow, darling,” He tapped Harry’s cheek mockingly taken aback when Harry closed his eyes and nuzzled into it. “Oh, so we’re those kind of friends now?”

 

Harry smiled dopily, cheeks flushing red under Louis’s hand. “Lou, you are practically sitting on my lap and we’re watching Disney movies together. I’m pretty sure we’re every kind of friend.”

 

Louis smiled one of his real smiled, all slightly-pointed teeth and crinkled up eyes. Harry could feel already-manic grin exploding across his face,

 

“In that case…” Louis trailed off, shrugging his petite shoulders and crawling on top of Harry until the top of his head tucked neatly under Harry’s chin, tangling their legs together in the process. “This okay?” He stole the piece of popcorn that had been on its way into Harry’s mouth until Louis had brushed against parts of him that were slightly more interested that was kosher between friends.

 

Harry just smiled, nosing into Louis’s hair until Louis buried his grin in his chest. “Fine with me,” he said lightly, wrapping an arm around him and watching the laptop screen as the opening credits of _Snow White_ started playing.

 

“Let’s just not sleep tonight,” Harry said as the seven dwarves marched across the screen.

 

“Why not?” Louis asked, scratching a comforting hand across his scalp.

 

“I get nightmares before tests, and I don’t want to psych myself out.”

 

Louis tilted his head, considering. “Harry?”

 

Harry looked pointedly at Louis’s shoulder, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah?”

 

“I can stay up with you if you want. But regardless, we both know exactly how tomorrow’s going to work, don’t we?”

 

Harry looked at him through his eyelashes. “How?”

 

“Well,” Louis said thoughtfully, running his fingertips across he shell of Harry’s ear before looping a curl around his finger and tugging gently, “we’ll walk in tomorrow and ace anything they can think to throw at us. Probably in the most obnoxious possible way.”

 

Harry snickered. “Since when have we allowed impossibility to limit our level of obnoxiousness?”

 

“There’s my Harold,” Louis said, nuzzling his nose contentedly against Harry’s neck. “We’re going to be fine. Because nothing they make us do will ever make us anything but Louis and Harry. And from what I hear, Louis and Harry are practically incapable of anything but success.”

 

Harry murmured in agreement, Louis’s warmth and the gentle fingers threaded through his hair making him drowsy. Louis couldn’t help nut make him laugh one more time before he dropped off, though. “Plus, with your dimples and my ass, how could we be anything less than extraordinary?”

 

Harry’s snicker rumbled in his chest, against Louis’s ear, and Harry swore for a second that he saw a shiver run up his spine. He followed it with the palm of his hand, smoothing down the smaller man’s back and pressed a sleepy kiss to his messy hair. “With a partner like you, I wouldn’t dare to be.”

 

They fell asleep like that, on the tiny futon with questionable stains that was squeezed into a corner of their bedroom. Neither questioned why crowding onto the couch was more comfortable than their respective bunks

 

#

 

A loud noise sounded directly into Louis’s ear and he sat up quickly, jabbing Harry in the stomach with his elbow in the process.

 

“Heyyyy,” Harry whined, rubbing at his stomach with his hand. “What was that for, you prat?”

 

“Shut your alarm off, you big baby. It scared the shit out of me. It’s time for the test.”

 

“Great,” Harry said, the sarcasm in his voice trying and failing to mask his anxiety.

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Louis quickly countered, wrapping his arms around Harry in some kind of strange horizontal hug. “I’m allowing you one good, quick cuddle and one mug of my famous tea, and then you’re going to remember who you’re talking to and who you are, and you are going to get your shit together so we can prove to everyone else out there that we are the best team since Flynn Rider and Maximus the horse from _Tangled_.”

 

Harry stuck his tongue out. “I love _Tangled_.”

 

“You would, pretty little flower child that you are,” Louis said, poking at Harry’s ribs when he preened.

 

“You think I’m prettyyy,” Harry teased, getting off of the futon and stretching until his spine popped into place.

 

“The prettiest of all the princesses,” Louis quipped, bending to touch his toes.

 

Harry didn’t stare.

 

Not for that long, anyway.

 

#

 

After their breakfast, the two partners walked to the testing facilities, arms linked.

 

“You ready for this, Brains?” Harry asked as the proctor started passing pencils to the trainees.

 

“Always, Brawn,” Louis said, rolling his eyes.

 

Harry had graduated top of his class at Oxford, and Louis had been given several opportunities to go pro in football. Neither of them was exactly lacking in their physical or mental abilities. Harry grinned, reaching down the table to squeeze Louis’s hand one more time for luck before looking at the first question.

 

It wasn’t that either was incapable of doing the entire job by his self, Harry realized. It was more like they didn’t _have_ to. _And that,_ he thought to himself, easily answering another question, _made all the difference._

 

#

 

“Well,” Harry said, tying on a blindfold. “This is it, Louis.”

 

Louis answered through his headset. “You’re going to be fine, H. You know I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

 

Harry had to smile at the fiercely protective note in Louis’s voice. “The feeling’s mutual, babe. I trust you.”

 

The two had easily passed the written, physical, and practical application exams. Now fully-fledged agents, it was time to attempt The Course as the customary first “mission” they would take on together. Despite the anxious noise Louis made as he was handed the map, Harry was at least 90% sure it wouldn’t be their last. Or maybe 75% sure. Louis was better with percentages.

 

“Alright, lovebirds,” Agent Cowell addressed them, not unkindly. He’d taken to calling the two men that when he had noticed how quickly and strongly they were bonding. “Ready?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Harry managed to get out from his tightly-clenched jaw.

 

“Relax, Styles.” the older agent said. “It could be worse. This could be reality television.” Harry winced, irritated that his fear had come through, despite his efforts to the contrary.

 

“I’ve got you, Harry,” Louis said quietly and firmly in his ear. Just like that, Harry shook the tension from his muscles and grinned.

 

“This’ll be fun, Lou,” he said as the countdown started.

 

A gun went off to signal the start of the course, and Harry spooked, his lack of sight making him more skittish than usual.

 

“Okay, H. “I’m going to need you to go ten paces forward. Be careful towards the end. There should be some sort of edge, so feel it out.”

 

Harry obediently walked forward eight paces before feeling around with his feet, finally hitting an edge. “Got it, Lou. What now?”

 

“Find a hand hold. It should be around six inches over the edge. Got it?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Swing yourself over.”

 

“How deep is it, Lou?”

 

“No idea, babe. Just be very, very careful. Get a good grip. And brace yourself against the opposite wall. The crevice shouldn’t be very wide.”

 

“Okay.” Harry huffed a deep breath and jumped up and down in place, trying to shake himself out of the fear that suddenly hit him.”

 

“H! H, breathe buddy. I think we prepped for this the right way last night.”

 

Harry was shocked into a giggle. “How so, Lou? We watched Disney movies all night.”

 

“And this is exactly like that scene in _Emperor’s New Groove_ , man. You just have to brace yourself between the walls and shimmy down. And I know you can shimmy.”

 

“Damn straight.”

 

Just like that, their balance was back. Louis narrated each successive obstacle with a Disney movie (“This is like that part in _Tarzan_ where… NO! Harry, it isn’t even possible to do that weird tree-surfy thing. God, Styles. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t believe you took a day of physics in your _life_. You’re lucky you’re pretty, _honestly_.”) while the observing agents laughed hysterically in an adjoining room.

 

They stopped laughing when they realized that the two idiotic boys playing at fairy tales and flirting had gotten the best time on the course for the year. Also… er… the best time _ever_.

 

“Their methods are beyond unorthodox,” Agent Cowell said later, guzzling beers at a nearby bar with some of the other agents, “and who the fuck knows what is going on with their relationship. But I think they may be the best team I’ve ever seen.”  

 

Harry called Niall and Zayn immediately after they had finished (well, after they had tackle-hugged and rolled around on the ground for at least five minutes). “We need to celebrate!” Niall whooped. “Let’s go out tonight, get Zayn to comp our drinks. You can fuck some stranger’s brains out. It’ll be just like old times. You’ve been so busy with the whole super-spy thing, we haven’t gone out at all!”

 

Harry smirked, knowing that he could pull half the club with the way he was feeling. But then he looked over at Louis, talking on the phone to his mum. “Think my partner and I are staying in tonight. We’re pretty beat.”

 

“Right,” Niall said. Harry could _hear_ him wiggling his eyebrows over the phone. “Enjoy that.”

 

“That isn’t what it’s–” the phone cut off. Harry rolled his eyes and slipped his phone into his pocket, walking over to Louis.

 

“Gotta go, mum. Tell the girls their super cool spy brother says ‘hello.’” He hung up too, immediately wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and cuddling in. “I can’t believe we just did that!”

 

“You know what I can’t believe?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I can’t believe that we didn’t get a chance to watch _Cinderella_ last night.”

 

Louis gasped. “You’re completely fucking right, man. That is just not on. Whatever shall we do about it?”

 

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I guess we’ll just have to have another Disney marathon tonight.”

 

“I guess.” The two boys looked at each other, big smiles taking over their faces.

 

“I CALL BIG SPOON,” Louis shouted, running towards their room.

 

“GOOD LUCK WATCHING THE MOVIE OVER MY BROAD FREAKING SHOULDERS,” Harry screeched back, sprinting after him.

 

The rest of the agents watched the two men run away bemusedly.

 

“I can’t tell if they take anything seriously,” Agent Teasdale said, throwing her hands up. Agent Atkin threw an arm around her.

 

“I think,” he said slowly, “I think they might take each other seriously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think! And, as always, character asks/Cody and Raven asks are open!


	6. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘You know, I think you’re right.’ He could feel Harry’s lips moving against his hair as he spoke. ‘I didn’t notice any other guys all night. Bad luck, I suppose.’
> 
> 'The worst of luck.' Louis found himself grinning at the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> We know this is late again because we're assholes. Just remember that Cody was an asshole who was getting laid this week, so we can't really blame him for it. Thanks for following the story!  
> Love,  
> Raven

Louis

Louis stifled a groan and rolled onto his stomach. The faint, golden morning light that seeped in through his bedroom window was proving to be especially irritating. Didn’t the damn sun know that he needed his beauty sleep? Just because the earth orbited around the damn ball of fiery rock didn’t mean that it could just go around and do whatever it pleased. It was just rude. Besides, it wasn’t every morning that he got to sleep in until... actually, Louis didn’t know what time it was. 

Stretching out his limbs to their full extent, Louis rolled onto his side and peered down at the clock poised precisely on the center of Harry’s bedside table. 9:00am. Whereas waking up so late any other day would have arisen within him a mixture of overwhelming terror and immeasurable despair (because it would have meant he was late for work), today it filled him with a sense a pure, undiluted satisfaction. It was his first day off in weeks, granted to Harry and he in response to their perfect execution of the Course yesterday.

“IF I WERE A BOY, I’D GET OUT OF BED IN THE MORNING, PUT ON WHAT I WANTED AND GO.” Harry’s rapsy baritone, as every morning, wove its way from the kitchen into their tiny bedroom. And, for once, Louis was too well rested to let his irritation at being woken up overshadow his appreciation for his partner’s singing. Even though he and Harry had agreed to ixnay the whole exsay thing, he had to admit that hearing that boy sing was sometimes more pleasurable than some of his wildest toilet hookups (excluding the one with Harry , of course).

“REALLY? BEYONCE, HAROLD?” Louis’s tone was ridden with his usual bedside sass. 

“DAMN RIGHT, TOMLINSON. SHE’S THE QUEEN.” Harry’s cooed back. 

Louis hopped out of bed, clad only in his peter pan pajama pants, and padded his way into the kitchen. 

“You know, I was going to respond with some of my class A snark, but I happen to agree with you, Hazza. Beyonce is possibly the only person on this earth who is more of a queen than I. Damn her.” He put his hands on his hips, donning his best impression of a four year old about to succumb to a temper tantrum. 

“I don’t know, Lou. From the back I’m not sure people could tell you apart...” Harry’s sudden chuckling told Louis that yes, his face was turning that shade of bright crimson that it only reserved for moments of severe mortification. Great start to a morning.

“So, what did you want to do on our day off?” He choked out through gritted teeth. Though he had planned on seeking retribution for his recent embarrassment, the smell of freshly cook bacon was beginning to eat away at his resolve. 

“I was actually thinking we could spend the day in the small park down the street. Eat, read, tan, relax. You know, normal people stuff.” Harry’s dopey green eyes looked down at him through long, curled lashes. Though they would never be normal, and he desperately wanted to remind his partner of that fact, the soft vulnerability written all over Harry’s face left him nodding. 

“That’s a great idea, Haz.”

***

The little park down the street was relatively on the same caliber as their apartment. It stretched out in either direction for about 300 feet, a wide expanse of more yellow than green grass spotted here and there with wooden benches already black with rot. On the opposite side of the space, Louis could make out the remains of a playground; a convoluted tangle of rusted iron, crooked slides, and a swing set missing all of its swings. 

“Well, this is umm... lovely.” Louis was unable to keep the cynical amusement out of his voice.

“I know, I know. It isn’t the most beautiful locale, your majesty. But I remembered you saying that you had never had a picnic before... so here we are.” Harry’s crooked grin had Louis striding into the park as if he didn’t even notice that most of the grass was coated in a fine layer of filth. He may or may not have been touched that Harry had thought to take him on a picnic. Maybe. UGH. 

The two made their way to a spot just beside the dilapidated playground (where, thankfully, the grass looked slightly less greasy). Harry pulled out the checkered baby blue and emerald blanket that he had packed in his wicker basket and spread it out before them. 

“So what’s on the menu today, chef Styles?” Louis plopped himself down onto the blanket with a grin.

“Well, we have... my famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” Harry pulled out a pair of double-decker sandwiches, each safely enclosed in a plastic bag. 

“We also have some cut strawberries, a side of powdered sugar, and freshly squeezed lemonade.” He felt his eyes widen as his partner pulled each of the items out of his tiny wicker basket. How Harry had managed to fit an entire pitcher of lemonade in the basket, and not spill it, was beyond him.

“I’d make some comment about how terribly domestic you are, but I’m starving and this looks delicious and you can just insert a comment of your choosing.” He scrambled to open one of the plastic bags. 

“That was delicious, Haz.” Louis said after swallowing down the last of his food. “Really superb.”

“Thanks, babe. But, um, I think you’ve still got a bit left on your chin.” 

“WHAT, WHERE?” He began to rub at his face frantically.

“No, no... not there... oh just hold still, Lou.” Harry gripped his chin and suddenly he found himself captured by two shining green eyes. 

“Mkay.” He muttered, almost unable to prevent himself from shuddering. He could feel the waves of heat pouring off the other boy as he leaned closer, smelling strongly of aftershave, and bent his head towards Louis’s. His head was buzzing, thought after endless thought bouncing around inside his head rendering his mind completely useless. By the time he realized he should probably pull away, Harry was already running his hot tongue up his chin, licking away the thin stream of strawberry juice that had escaped his mouth. Louis remained perfectly still, not trusting a single cell in his body, until his partner pulled away.

“Sorry, I just really like strawberries.” Harry whispered. The green of his eyes were almost completely hidden by his now blown pupils.

“It’s okay.” Louis shook his head. “So Harold, what are the plans for the rest of this afternoon? Hopefully something more riveting than cut strawberries and powdered sugar.”

“I was thinking about going out with the guys, actually.” His partner shot back, rolling his eyes. “Maybe find us some nice lads, if you know what I’m saying.” Damn Harry and his waggling eyebrows. 

“That’s a great idea! Do you mind if I invite Liam? I think he’d really get along with the guys.”

“Sure thing, lovebug. Tell him to be at our place at 8.” 

***

Much to his annoyance, 8 turned into 9 and then to 10 and then to 11. As it turned out, he and Harry’s friends took longer to get ready than he did (which was QUITE the feat). Zayn, to whom Louis had taken an instant liking, had spent over an hour on his hair alone, claiming that he needed to look his best at all times because he was perpetually on soul mate patrol. Ironically, his thoughts regarding soul mates seemed to dissipate as soon as Liam walked into their flat. After being introduced, Zayn had proceeded to stare at the bulky, puppy-dog of a boy as if he were the only boy in the world. What’s worse, Liam seemed to be completely oblivious to Zayn’s more than obvious attraction and Zayn was apparently too frantic to enlighten him. Stupid boys.

Once finally at the club, Zayn, Liam, and Niall (Harry’s other, much straighter and very Irish friend) had disappeared amongst the crowd dancing beneath the familiar neon strobe lights. 

“See any prospects, Tomlinson?” Harry asked over his strawberry daiquiri. 

To be honest, there were lots of prospects. Even from his spot at the bar, Louis could make out a number of tall, fit guys weaving in and out of the flashing crowd. Though he would need to get closer to clarify, it even looked as if some of the guys possessed well-defined, rippling muscles of the sort that he normally liked to lick. 

“I’m not sure yet.” He found himself saying out loud. “I think we better have another drink before we get into any real trouble.” Harry grinned back at him and signaled the bartender. 

One margarita, two martinis, two miscellaneous cocktails, and three hours later, Harry and Louis were still seated at the bar. 

“I WON’T SAY I’M IN LOVEEEEE.” Louis was belting out, his arm wrapped around Harry’s neck. They had spent the past hour reliving their Disney marathon. Somehow they had jumped from Beauty and the Beast, to Mulan, and now to Hercules. They hadn’t even watched Hercules the other night, but in his inebriated state Louis had remembered that he was an almost perfect embodiment of the short, sassy muse. And, well, it had all been downhill from there. 

Harry nuzzled his head against the top of Louis’s chin. “Weren’t we supposed to be finding us some lads?” He could feel Harry’s warm breath against his ear.

“Lesbehonest, Harold. There weren’t any lads fine enough in this joint to be worthy of the title of prospects. No fit lads at all. Besides us, of course.” He closed his eyes and breathed in that blissfully familiar aftershave.

“You know, I think you’re right.” He could feel Harry’s lips moving against his hair as he spoke. “I didn’t notice any other guys all night. Bad luck, I suppose.”

“The worst of luck.” Louis found himself grinning at the floor. “I guess we’ll just have to try again some other night.”

“I suppose we will.” He couldn’t help but shiver when Harry planted a soft kiss against his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never look at strawberries the same way again. (Cue scenes of me trying to blow strawberries because I am sad and lonely and it's all the action I'm getting in the foreseeable future.) How about you?


	7. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sure, Lou,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t like he had a say in who Louis took home. Or who Louis let fuck him in the stall of a bathroom. He could hardly pass judgment on that, after all. 
> 
> It didn’t mean he had to like it, though, and when Louis linked arms with a tall brunette with big eyes and a dimple and pulled him out to the dance floor, he sent him a glare that probably singed off his weird sideburns. Which, would probably improve his appearance, so really, he should be thanking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> Actually getting a chapter out on time! Sorry we've been slacking. School's almost back in and then we'll get back to deadlines and schedules and all that crap.Cody's coming back to the city tomorrow, so I'm really excited! I miss my snuggle bunches of oats. In other news, I got to see This Is Us at a pre-screening Friday. AND OH MY GOD. So freaking good. If any of you have questions about it, I don't mind being your spoiler. Also, Tyler Oakley was sitting four rows in front of me, and I feel like we bonded over our mutual renting of clothes and gnashing of teeth. So there's that.   
> As always, thanks so much for reading our weirdness! I'll see you at the bottom.  
> xx Raven and Cody

Louis was drunk. His eyes were glassy, his lips pursed as he huffed, annoyed that Liam and Zayn were ignoring each other (though they kept sending pitiful looks at each other across the dance floor). He kept humming tunelessly under his breath, singing songs from _Hercules_ and shimmying to his own beat, rather than the bassline of the Usher song the DJ was playing.

 

Harry couldn’t stop staring at his partner. He was… kind of beautiful. And slightly vulnerable. Attractive men in even tighter pants than Harry was wearing (which, it had taken Harry 22.4 minutes to get them over his nonexistent ass, so either these douchebags were practically dickless or wearing jeggings) kept approaching them at the bar and _leering_ at him.

 

Harry, being the good friend that he was, was as close to Louis as he could get, creating a wall between Louis and his distracted drunk dancing and the creepers who were circling like buzzards around a carcass.

 

So. Maybe Harry was a little tipsy as well. And maybe he was a bit of an Edgar-Allen-Poe drunk. What? It was a thing. Or it could be.

 

 _Quoth my dignity, “Nevermore,”_ Harry thought, contorting his face into some sort of snarl as a blonde with a quiff the size of Mount Everest leaned into Louis’s side.

 

Everest backed off.

 

A familiar cough sounded in his ear, and Harry shielded Louis with his arm on instinct, before turning.

 

“Your inner caveman is showing,” Zayn deadpanned.

 

“He’s drunk, okay? I don’t want anyone taking advantage of him,” Harry snapped.

 

“Cute,” Zayn quipped, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Jealousy doesn’t look bad on you, actually. You’re quite ‘Tarzan meets Bond’ right now.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose at him, and Louis reached up from the circle of Harry’s arms to poke it. “Boop.”

 

Zayn chuckled and Harry’s dopey grin receded for just long enough to lecture him in turn. “So I see that Liam is dancing on the _other side of the fucking room_. How’s that working out for you?”

 

Louis snorted and gestured at the other two. Harry and Zayn exchanged glances and leaned in so they could hear a quiet: “Stupid ponces who won’t just make out.” Louis giggled into his hand, swaying into Harry.

 

“Oi. Hi, my name is Zayn Malik, actually, and I’m right here, prick.” Zayn dragged a hand through his hair, then frantically tried to fix it, looking for a nearby reflective surface with a kind of religious fervor.

 

Louis stood on his tippy-toes, leaning into Harry. “He can hear me?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. Louis was, apparently, a lightweight. “Yes, Lou, he can hear you.”

 

“I can barely hear myself over his shoes.” Louis giggled into Harry’s shoulder.

 

Harry squinted. Zayn’s trainers were fuchsia. Louis had a point.

 

Liam walked over to the group, returning an enthusiastic hug from Louis. Harry tried not to tense up, but from the smirk Liam sent him over his friend’s shoulder, he was less than successful.

 

“Louis,” Zayn said, walking back to the group with hair that more closely resembled his previously flawless quiff, “didn’t you say you wanted to dance with some pretty boys tonight?”

 

Louis peered up at the others from below his long eyelashes. Harry flushed for no good reason. “Yes?”

 

“Is that a question, or an answer?” Liam asked, quirking his head to the side like the Labrador he resembled. Harry cursed at him loudly in his head

 

“’S an answer, right, H?” Louis looked at him, chewing his lip distractedly. “We were both going to get laid tonight, right?”

 

“Sure, Lou,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t like he had a say in who Louis took home. Or who Louis let fuck him in the stall of a bathroom. He could hardly pass judgment on that, after all.

 

It didn’t mean he had to like it, though, and when Louis linked arms with a tall brunette with big eyes and a dimple and pulled him out to the dance floor, he sent him a glare that probably singed off his weird sideburns. Which, would probably improve his appearance, so really, he should be thanking him.

 

Harry looked around with the same menacing glare, sure he probably looked like a serial killer, but it must have worked for the unsuspecting lad who, really, wasn’t his type at all, that he grabbed by the elbow and dragged out next to Louis and his dance partner.

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he murmured under his breath when Big Eyes started grinding into Louis’s arse a bit too aggressively. Louis didn’t seem to mind, but he didn’t really seem to notice either, meeting Harry’s stare and crossing his eyes, screwing his face into a grimace.

 

Harry laughed, flashing his dimple, and winked at Louis. His partner groaned. “Why am I even here?” before pushing Harry away and walking over to Big Eyes and shoving between him and Louis. Louis and Harry shrugged in commiseration, then began dancing with each other, Louis’s arms flung around Harry’s neck and Harry pulling a giggly Louis up to stand on his toes.

 

“Hey, short stuff,” Harry chuckled, nosing into Louis’s neck.

 

“Whatever,” Louis scoffed, playing along. “We can’t all be giants, now can we?”

 

Harry smiled goofily down at his partner. “I missed you.”

 

“From all of three meters distance, Harold? I thought you could get anyone you wanted in this club?”

 

Harry shrugged. “It’s a gift, really,” pulling Louis closer.

 

Louis hummed in contentment and slouched into Harry, letting him take his full bodyweight. “We should dance more often, H. This is nice.”

 

Harry nodded, letting Louis’s fringe brush his nose and crinkling it.

 

Louis didn’t even look up, just reached a finger up and poked Harry in the nose again. “Boooooop.”

 

“Lou!” Harry said quite a bit later, startling him.

 

“What?! What’s going on?” he looked heavy-lidded and Harry realized he had started to doze off, just resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“The wild Liam has approached the wild Zayn. Some strange mating ritual has ensued.”

 

Louis perked up, maneuvering Harry until they were parallel to their friends and could both spy. “Harry. Harry? Did you see that?”

 

Liam had reached a hand that appeared to be trembling, even from halfway across the room, and touched Zayn’s hair.

 

“He touched the hair,” Harry said in awe. “No one’s allowed to touch the hair. He met his idol last year and _she_ couldn’t touch the hair.”

 

“Who’s his idol?”

 

“Mariah Carey.”

 

Louis snorted, “Wow oh my god Zayn’s so cool do you think he would give me an autograph?”

 

Harry giggled. “I guess he has a new idol now, huh?”

 

Suddenly, Zayn grabbed Liam by the back of the neck and crashed his lips into his.

 

“Well. Holy shit!” Louis cackled.

 

Liam’s hands flailed through the air awkwardly, then buried themselves in Zayn’s hair again. The two men came up for air, gasping, before Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him across the dance floor.

 

“Harry. I need the keys.”

 

“Oh no you don’t, Malik. You know how I feel about that car.”

 

“Yes. Also, I know how you feel about certain other persons,” he raised his eyebrow and Harry shivered under the full weight of the Zayn Malik Bitchface.

 

“Okay, okay. Jesus Christ. But if you get any bodily fluids on the seats, I will skin you and use it to reupholster my baby, okay?” _Yeah, Edgar-Allen-Poe drunk is_ definitely _a thing._

 

“Liam’s getting laid,” Louis sing-songed into Harry’s ear, and he was suddenly not disgruntled at all, laughing with Louis at their friends.

 

“You know who isn’t getting laid?” Harry asked teasingly.

 

“Niall?”

 

“Oh, come on. He left a half an hour ago with a girl. Ane, I think her name is? She was pretty. We’re the ones who aren’t getting laid, Louis. Us.”

 

“Jealous of the Irish, H?”

 

“Nah. Ane seemed cool, though. Don’t you remember meeting her?”

 

Louis tapped his finger against his chin, brow creased in concentration. “Yes. I remember. She was pretty. But not nearly as pretty as me. Right?”

 

Harry smiled, noting the jealousy in Louis’s face. “You’re the prettiest princess in all the land, Tommo.”

 

His face lit up and he preened under the attention, suddenly going up on his tiptoes to kiss Harry on the cheek. “I’m going to go to the loo to puke, probably. Wanna get a cab for us and meet me out front?”

 

Harry shook his head, flabbergasted as always at Louis’s rapid topic switches. “Are you okay by yourself?”

 

Louis grinned. “I always was until you came along. Mum.”

 

Harry flipped him off with one hand, dialing for a cab with the other. An attractive girl walked over, bumping his hip with hers.

 

“Hey,” she said smoothly, looking up at him through her lashes the way Louis always did when he wanted something. “Want to hang out at my place?”

 

It was sudden, but it was hardly the fastest he had agreed to hook up with some hot stranger.

 

There wasn’t even a moment of consideration. He almost laughed at the sharp pain in his stomach even thinking about going home with anyone but Louis.

 

It was another case of “I could have anyone in this club, if I wanted.” “Maybe. But, honestly, do you want anyone else here more than you want me?” “No. No, I don’t want anyone else here more than I want you.”

 

Harry was, in a word, fucked.

 

“No thanks, love. I’m taken,” Harry answered. Because he was.

 

Louis came to the front of the club a few minutes later, looking seven kinds of wrecked. Harry wanted to make him a cup of tea and wrap him in blankets and listen to him breathe.

 

He flinched when Louis bumped their shoulders together.

 

“You okay, babe?” he asked sleepily, his throat rasping slightly. Harry wrapped an arm around him, unable to prevent himself.

 

“Just a bit out of it.” Or a lot. A lot out of it. _Quoth my career, “Nevermore.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what did you guys think of drunk Louis and relevatory Harold? It took him long enough! One down and one to go, lads and ladies. As always, feel free to drop us a comment asking us or our characters anything you want. Have a great week and we'll see you next Sunday!


	8. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do not cry. One, two, three. Do not cry.” He was shaking now, barraged by images of Harry. Soft curls, big warm hands, silly tattoos, bright green eyes… he almost flinched when the first, fiery hot tear fell onto his forearm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex is back in Scotland, and Cody and I are a little down in the dumps. We may or may not have eaten three dozen of my famous homemade chocolate chip cookies. So forgive us if this chapter is a little sad. 
> 
> Have this link of the boys discussing the Spice Girls and singing Wannabe. Which. I mean. We've only been saying it since forever, so.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rRFvUDX0J2k

Louis

 

“Lady Gaga is tacky.” Louis leaned forward onto his toes, ready for flight.

 

“You know, you’re absolutely right. Way too much glitter, that one.” His partner’s too-loud voice responded.

 

He narrowed his eyes. “Rihanna is far superior to Beyonce. In fact, she should have replaced her as queen years ago.”

 

Harry nodded his head vigorously. “ _S & M_ beats  _If I were a Boy_  any day.” Louis could feel his hands coiling into tight little fists.

 

“Miley Cyrus’s performance at the VMAs was brilliant, a perfect blend of class and unadulterated creativity.”

 

“What?... Oh! Now that you mention it, I completely agree. It was a stroke of pure genius, really. Very inspiring.” It was all Louis could do not to throw himself, or better yet his partner, through the nearest wall.

 

Instead, he threw up his hands and strode back into their small bedroom. For once, the room did not appear as if it had recently had a run in with a tornado mixed with an earthquake compounded by a 6 man orgy. The so-thin-that-whoever-designed-the-apartment-should-have-just-opted-for-hardwood-floors carpet was almost completely covered in stacks of neatly aligned boxes. Aside from Harry’s sleek, black alarm clock and a pair of grey pillows (one on each bunk), everything else had been packed. The lack of personal possessions lent the small room an austere feel; the metal bars that comprised the frame of the bunk beds gleamed dully and jarred outwards at harsh, garish angles while the white walls (no longer hidden behind a collage of Disney posters) seemed to expand in every direction. Louis shivered. Their room, once cheerful and full of life, now looked awkward and strained.

 

“What’s wrong, Lou?” came Harry’s growl, a bit raspier than usual, from the living room.

 

“Nothing, Harry. Just nothing.” His heart leapt in response to his own thinly veiled irritation (and the jolt of pain he knew Harry must have experienced as a result), but it couldn’t be helped. Things with Harry had been, well, awkward and strained over the past couple of days. Their comfortable routine and witty banter had gradually devolved into Harry becoming intensely interested in the floor when Louis entered the room and finding himself suddenly incapable of disagreeing with anything that Louis said. Not that Louis minded having his opinions reaffirmed (because, let’s face it, he was almost always flawless in his tastes), but Rihanna better than Beyonce? Miley Cyrus the epitome of class? COME ON.

 

He walked over to one of their packed boxes and landed a well-placed kick. The boxes on top of the one that had just been viciously assaulted began to sway. Louis fixed them with his best I-am-definitely-not-in-the-mood glare. They stopped moving.

_That’s what I thought._  He closed his eyes and sank to the ground. This whole moving fiasco had occurred so quickly that Louis never really had the chance to stop and think. Harry’s lease on their flat was due to run out next week (apparently the agency didn’t believe in sending out helpful reminders) and neither of them was prepared. Louis had only moved to London for his job; he didn’t have anywhere else he could stay. So what did he do? He asked his partner, the only person in the world with whom he really felt safe, to go flat hunting with him. Which would have been fine, you know, if Harry hadn’t gone all hey-I’m-going-to-pretend-that-everything’s-fine-even-though-I’ve-completely-lost-my-bloody-marbles on him. AH.

 

He could feel himself worrying away at his bottom lip again. What the hell had happened? Just last week Harry had been his best friend. His partner. His confidante. They had told each other things that no one else would ever hear (or hear and live to repeat, rather). Hell, they had cuddled and watched Disney movies together. And now that boy, that  _damn_  boy who frustrated him more than anyone else, who was thoughtful enough to remember that Louis had always wanted to go on a picnic, who was so adorable sometimes that it physically  _hurt_ … now that boy was acting as if something monumental had come between them.

 

Louis pushed his face into his hands. “You will not cry, Tomlinson. You. Will. Not. Cry.”

 

#

 

Their new flat, which, thankfully, was close enough to headquarters that they wouldn’t have to run to work, was marginally better than its predecessor. As more tenured operatives, the agency had entrusted them with choosing their own flat. So, naturally, they had chosen one with a bit more breathing room (Harry’s wealth for the win).

 

The flat was comprised of one full kitchen, one master bedroom (which, to Louis’s immense delight, contained a king sized bed), two full bathrooms, a dining room, and a living room complete with flat screen telly and oversized couch.

 

“After you.” Harry said sweetly, holding open the door to the bedroom. He shot his partner a nervous glance before bounding into the room and leaping onto the bed. It felt like clouds and fluffy kittens all rolled up into one perfect, silky smooth mattress. Rolling over on the pristine, white comforter he noticed that Harry was still standing by the door, shuffling his feet.

 

“Well, aren’t you going to join me Haz?” He held his breath.

 

“Uh, no. Not just yet. But are you hungry? I can make eggs benedict, I know how you love eggs benedict. And I can put on a Disney movie while I cook so you won’t be bored. Maybe I’ll cut up some fruit, strawberries are always good…” Louis’s head spun with the rapidity at which the words were pouring out of his partner’s mouth.

 

“No, that’s okay Harry. It’s 4 in the afternoon and you just made me ingest my body weight in homemade cupcakes shaped like Peter Pan. No more food.” Harry looked crestfallen.

 

“But we can watch a movie or just lie here and talk…”

 

“What about lemonade! I can make some fresh squeezed lemonade. After moving all day, you’re bound to be thirsty! And I remember you saying that you used to love drinking fresh squeezed lemonade with your sisters when you went to the beach as kids.”

 

Louis was speechless. He was flattered that Harry still remembered such minute details about him, but the larger boy’s overwhelming kindness, now imbued with a discomfort that Louis couldn’t explain, was too much.

 

“Actually, I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I’m just going to take a nap.” Harry picked up on his resignation immediately.

 

“Lou, what’s wrong? Was it something I said? Are you uncomfortable? I can go if you want…” The other boy was all sad emerald eyes and tangled curls.

 

He sighed. “No, nothing’s wrong. I didn’t mean it like that, Haz. I’m just tired from moving is all.” He watched as the tension visibly drained from his partner’s shoulders.

 

“Oh, good. Then I’ll go make my bed and let you get some rest.”

 

“Your bed?” Louis was baffled. The thought of Harry sleeping somewhere else hadn’t even crossed his mind.

 

“Yeah…” Harry was studying the wood-paneled floor. “I was thinking of just making the couch my bed, since it’s so big and all…”

 

Louis sat up straight. “Oh, that makes perfect sense. Since we don’t have a king sized bed in here or anything. Yep, you should definitely be sleeping on couch since it’s so  _large._ ” He could feel the blood rushing to his face.

 

“Well, I just thought you’d want your… you know, space.” His partner’s voice was a low whisper.

 

“ _Space?_  We used to live in the housing equivalent of a shoebox, Styles. Since when has space ever been an issue? If you need a break from me all you have to do is say so”

 

“No, NO! I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…”

 

“Stop apologizing! Please!” Louis tried to lower his voice. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. Really. I just, what’s wrong Harry? Talk to me.”

 

He looked up at his partner. For a moment he was silent, and then he met Louis’s gaze, a small smile plastered in place. “Nothing’s wrong, Lou. I’m just tired from the move too, I guess. I’m going to go crash on the couch. Talk in a bit?”

 

He was so tired that all he could do was nod. “Sure, Haz. In a bit.”

Harry closed the door softly behind him as he left. Louis burrowed his face into his hands and tried to steady himself. “One, two, three. One, two, three.” He counted, inhaling on one and exhaling on three, in an attempt to steady his breathing. This particular technique was one that had been introduced to him by his therapist, back when he had first realized that he needed some help coping with his anxiety.

 

“One, two, three. One, two three.” Despite his efforts, he could feel the tears building behind his eyelids.

 

“Do not cry. One, two, three. Do not cry.” He was shaking now, barraged by images of Harry. Soft curls, big warm hands, silly tattoos, bright green eyes… he almost flinched when the first, fiery hot tear fell onto his forearm.

 

“Dammit, Harry. Just dammit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send us something to cheer us up? *Peering up at you through our fluttering eyelashes and making grabby hands*


	9. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wanted to kiss all over his face until he blushed, wanted to bury his head in the space between his jaw and his collarbone, wanted to write him love notes and frost them onto cupcakes, and, and. Harry needed to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a little more sadness. I'm sorry! That's just what our boys are making us do at the moment. On the bright side, Louis in footie gear :)))
> 
> We're talking to Alex on skype right now, and he's doing okay. We miss him!! And Cody and I have been looking at grad schools in LA. Do any of you live out there?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the cute messages and things this week. We love you guys!

Louis was _crying_.

Harry’s hands shook while he sloppily shoved the edges of a fitted sheet around the cushions of their new couch. He was trying his best, really trying his best not to be weird about this, because he remembered the look on his mother’s face when she told him how proud she was that he was going to use his career to help people. And more than that (and _Jesus_ , Harry was apparently the type to fall fast because putting someone else first like this couldn’t be natural), Harry remembered the sound of Louis’s voice cracking when he told him why he was becoming an agent, pictured Louis as a teenager, young and afraid of himself and alone, and Harry just. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Louis about his stupid crush. It wasn’t just his dream that it would ruin. He was not going to be responsible for Louis becoming scared and alone again.

He made a frustrated noise as he heard a stifled sob filter through the bedroom door. Maybe he was going to be responsible for that either way.

“L-Louis?” he asked, tapping a knuckle against the door. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Louis snapped, though he hardly sounded threatening through a stuffy nose. “I’m fine, Harry. Not that you care.” The last part was quiet, muffled, like he was half-whispering it through his fingers, hands rubbing across his face. This was bad. Louis rarely called him Harry. He called him Harold or Kitten or Babe or whatever inane thing ran through his head. And Louis had accused him of a million things, true and untrue, things like stealing the covers and stretching his t-shirts and forgetting to do the dishes, but never had he accused him of not _caring._

Harry wanted to run into the room and tackle him into a hug, wanted to pin him to the mattress and press kisses to the wrinkles he got in his forehead when he cried (like he did twice within the first ten minutes of _Up_ ), and to the corners of his eyes and his flushed cheeks.

Harry had done that kind of thing a million times before. Louis would think nothing of it. But when Harry inevitably got hard from pinning him against the mattress, or trailed his lips across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose and ended at his lips, or gripped his face between his hands and said “Don’t you dare say I don’t care about you. I care too much, idiot” before biting a bruise into his neck, he was pretty sure Louis would notice that something was different.

In fact, it should have been simple for Louis to figure it out. Harry’s being obvious again. It’s always been a tool he used to get what he wanted, before. He used to turn his eyes to someone at a bar or at Zayn’s club, let his eyes fill with want and sex and _yes please_ s, and they would flock to him, wrap arms around his neck, press hips to his, kiss him until he was dizzy with it.

Harry had never been conflicted about using every part of himself to get what he needed.

Until now.

Until Louis was crying in the next room because he was confused and missing parts of Harry no one else saw – pieces of himself he was afraid would die without Louis.

So.

So Harry backed away from the door and went to make some of that lemonade, even though Louis didn’t want it. He probably would in a bit – crying always made him thirsty. And anyway, Harry needed to do something with his hands, or he was afraid they would develop minds of their own and put themselves on Louis.

It was weird, he thought, how easily he had gotten used to casual touches with Louis, small presses of fingers against skin, arms wrapped around his waist or tickling his sides. Now, it felt unnatural to not be in constant contact with him, to try to avoid orbiting him like a planet around the sun. But Louis was light and warmth and Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t miss his gravity.

Harry sighed. The level of sap circulating through his brain was actually making him nauseous.

 “SOS,” his fingers types into his phone without permission.

“Traitors.” Harry glared at him, but they hit send anyway.

Within two minutes, Zayn was calling him.

“So you’re admitting it now?”

Harry sighed. “What am I supposed to be admitting to you exactly, Z?”

“Come on, H. A blind man could see the way you look at him.”

“Zayn,” Harry said, “I can’t look at him, anyway. His voice was thicker than he expected, his throat felt tight. Belatedly, he realized he was seconds from crying. “I’m not supposed to. _Fuck_. This is supposed to be my _shot_ , Zayn. I’m supposed to be _happy_ and it was _fine_ when I didn’t know. It was fine and we were perfect and now I’m _ruining everything_.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true.”

“He’s _crying_. On the king-sized bed I told him we couldn’t share. After trying to feed him eggs benedict instead of talking to him.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Zayn breathed, “Tell me it hasn’t been like this since the club.”

“Well,” Harry said, “Yesterday I made him quiche instead of eggs benedict. Turns out, he doesn’t like quiche. You live, you learn.”

Zayn sighed loudly, making the speaker crackle against Harry’s ear. “If you hurt him, Harry…”

Harry groaned. “No one wants to see that boy hurt less than me. Also, how did you know about the club?”

“Harry, come on. You’re quite possibly the least subtle individual in the world. You were all over him and making heart eyes and not even trying to get laid. In fact, that’s the least I’ve ever seen you try to get laid. I think you were trying to get laid more when you were meeting my _mother_.”

Harry smiled wolfishly, despite himself. “Your mom’s hot.”

“There’s my douchebag friend.” Harry could practically feel him shaking his head. “You know, I think I like Louis’s Harry better. He’s happier, I think. And kind. Louis makes you better.”

Harry groaned. “I know, okay? That’s why I have to be careful. Because I care about him and he loves this job. He deserves everything, and I’m going to make sure he gets it.”

Someone knocked at the door. “Z, I have to go. Someone’s here.”

“Okay, babe, but we’re finishing this conversation at some point.”

Harry sighed. “Why are we friends, again?”

“Because I make you better, too.”

“Good _bye_ , Jiminy Cricket.”

“You need to stop with the Disney marathons, lameass. You’re an addict.”

Harry rolled his eyes and hung up, just to be plowed into by a whirlwind of bleached blonde hair and pale skin.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Niall whisper-yelled furiously. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

“Ni! He’s literally in the next room, crying. Either help me, or get out.”

Niall slapped his back sympathetically.”So what’s the game plan, captain?”

“Avoidance,” Harry said as firmly as possible.

Niall sighed heavily, but nodded. “Then we’re going out tonight without him, and you’re going to do what you used to do. Get laid and don’t call them, whatever. You will not bring whoever it is back here, though, because this is not going to be a make-him-jealous thing. This is a letting-it-go thing, and it’s going to be fine.”

Harry groaned. “Why does that sound so horrible?”

Niall put his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Because you’re in way too deep, mate. Don’t go towards the light, ok? Come back to me. Away from being practically married to your coworker.”

Harry silenced him with a glare and a meaningful nod towards the bedroom door.

Niall crept over and peered in. “He’s asleep. Come on, H! I thought we were going to be the three perpetually-single amigos for life, but now Zayn and Liam, like, _hold hands_ , and you’re all…” he gestured at Harry, “moony and shit.”

Harry sighed. “Alright. You’re right. It’s no use getting hung up on the only person in the world I can’t have.”

“Besides our mothers, Harry.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t ask me to swear, or I’ll have to lie.”

“ _Jesus._ ” Niall slapped at him playfully and Harry squeaked loudly.

Immediately, Niall was halfway across the room with Louis pinning him down, hair still ruffled from his nap.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me!” Niall groaned, his Irish brogue stronger than normal. “Call him off, will ya, H?”

Louis realized who it was and jumped back as if he’d been burnt.

“S-Sorry, Ni.”

Niall rolled his eyes, but tempered it with a grin. “It’s chill, mate. You were just protecting Harry, huh?”

Louis’s voice was quiet, almost shy, and he was playing with the too-long sleeves of what appeared to be Harry’s favorite jumper. “Yeah.”

Harry wanted to kiss all over his face until he blushed, wanted to bury his head in the space between his jaw and his collarbone, wanted to write him love notes and frost them onto cupcakes, and, and. Harry needed to get out of there.

“We’re going out, Lou,” is what he said, almost dismissively. “Don’t wait up.”

He shut the door on Louis’s almost-silent, “K.”

“ _Fuck_ , Styles,” Niall said.

Harry groaned. “I know, man. I know.”

“If you want, we can just chill at my place instead.”

“No, you’re right. I have to get this whole thing out of my system.”

“Are you sure about that? Because that boy just woke up out of a sound sleep, flew out of the bedroom like a bat out of hell, and tried to beat the shit out of me, just because you made a noise that was something other than happy. He’s _that_ in tune with you. He listens for you in his fucking sleep, mate. That’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s our training.” Harry insisted halfheartedly.

“I could have had a gun, Harry. I could have had a gun and he jumped in between us. That’s not training. That’s love.”

“I’m getting over this,” Harry said firmly.

Niall opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head, but clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright, mate.”

Harry covered Niall’s hand with his own and wondered why it felt like he was en route to death row, instead of a nightclub.

#

Nothing felt right. Zayn was about to go on, as usual, Niall was chatting a pretty girl up over by the bar, as usual, and Harry was immersed in people, all pressing close to him, eyes blown out, trying to absorb his magnetism, as usual. This time, though, the body heat was cloying, sticky, and uncomfortable. His skin felt painfully sensitive, like he was sick, and he shied away from contact.

“You okay, killer?” a girl with strawberry blonde hair asked, green eyes wide.

Harry hummed noncommittally, but didn’t argue when she pulled him towards the bathroom. She pushed in front of the queue – “Sorry, he isn’t feeling well, sorry!”

Harry went to the sink to splash his face with cool water.

She rubbed his back, but her hands were too small.

Harry felt like he might vomit.

“Could you just,” he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyelids until colors exploded behind them. “Could you…”

“Who are you trying to get over, killer?”

“No. No one.”

She looked at him, almost pityingly. “Oh, come off it.”

“No one,” Harry repeated stubbornly.

“Right. So you wouldn’t be weirded out if I blew you?”

Harry unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants down with trembling hands.

“Love,” the girl spoke carefully, “this fees kind of rapey. You obviously don’t want this.”

“No, ‘sfine ,” Harry said. “You’re hot and I’m single and there isn’t any reason not to.”

The girl pulled his pants up, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Listen, I don’t know what’s up with you, but I spent a lot of time trying to avoid love by fucking peoples’ brains out too, and I avoided it long enough that I successfully avoided _him_. So you’re going to go to a friend’s house to sleep it off and then you’re going to deal with whatever you need to deal with so you’re never in a situation where someone could take advantage of you like this again.”

Harry buried his face in his hands and listened to her leave. It felt like a favor.

When he emerged, he was just in time to watch Liam wrap his arms around Zayn from behind and drop a kiss onto his temple. His heart lurched and for a moment his whole chest contracted and he _ached_. He ached for that kind of intimacy and comfort, for what it would mean to lean into that kind of embrace.

By the time he reached Niall at the bar, his throat was swollen with tears. “Can we just.” His voice broke. “Can we go?”

Niall barely bothered to say goodbye to the pretty brunette who had been plastered against him.

He didn’t say a single thing when Harry began to cry in the cab.

And when Harry curled up on his couch, he tucked a soft blanket around him and kissed him on the forehead, even though it was a little sweaty.

But Niall wasn’t Harry’s last thought as he drifted off. Louis was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send us more messages? They're like ice cream. But they don't make me fat. So send them :)


	10. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _But what if it was his idea… to go… without me. What if he couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore and deemed rough, hedonistic, tattoo-laden sexual pursuits in the club toilet as his only solution?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> So Cody and I are about to be all bundled up in my living room watching the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance, eating my homemade Oreo cheesecake and drinking Smirnoff. We are, quite literally, the coolest people I know.
> 
> Anyway, here's the chapter! Thanks for all the reviews this week. You guys are our favorites!!
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

Louis

 

Louis trod his way through the apartment. Seven steps from his side of the bed (four of Harry’s) to the doorway, eight to span the living room (if he walked to the left of the obnoxiously large coffee table that Harry insisted they buy so that the Disney Scene-It board would fit in the middle with ample room to spare) and end up right outside of the kitchen. There he would pause, not daring to enter that infernal room where that infernal boy so often danced to his own renditions of soulful girl band top hits while making food that always managed to make Louis drool despite himself, and shoot a furtive glance at the front door. Seeing nothing, he would promptly turn on his heel, stalk back to the bedroom (this time walking around the opposite side of the coffee table), and repeat his tiny circuit.

 

 _Where could he be?_ _He left hours ago…_ Louis glanced down at his faintly illuminated wrist watch. 9:00 p.m. His brow furrowed.

 

_Okay, he left 45 minutes ago… it’s really the same thing._

Louis felt the familiar, sharp pain of his teeth tearing away at the skin on his bottom lip. Normally such an action would have resulted in a self-rebuke of the sassiest variety, but tonight the pain came as a welcome relief. He wrapped himself in it, relishing the acute pangs of sensation that each insistent tug of his teeth sent coursing through his body like a reoccurring tidal wave crashing down on him, temporarily purging him of his overwhelming doubts and anxieties.

 

Louis sighed. _Did I make him feel like he had to leave?_ He turned around slowly and padded his way back through the bedroom.

  
 _Of course not, idiot! He just wanted to go out for a drink. Don’t read so much into things._ He held his shoulders a little higher, his tentative gait transforming mid-step into a confident stride.

 

 _But he wanted to go without me… I bet it was that damn Niall!_ His mouth tightened, lips curling up at the corners into a full blown snarl that he knew (after all, he had seen Harry cower in its wake on countless occasions) could wilt freshly picked spring daisies and newborn children simultaneously. Upon reaching the kitchen he whipped himself around, his stride becoming a volatile stomp.

 

_That bloody blonde Irishman! Convincing Harry that he needed to join him for an oh so exclusive night of debauchery. Probably wanted Harry to help him get the attention of some gorgeous twins who have caught his fancy. Or, knowing Niall, triplets. And Harry’s so freaking susceptible… what if he catches the straight!?_

He shuddered. His long, too thin fingers began to pick at the hem of his black cotton tee. Another nervous habit he thought he’d kicked. Oops.

 

Midway through the living room his impressive stomp ran out of fuel, subsiding to a nervous tip-toe.

 

_But what if it was his idea… to go… without me. What if he couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore and deemed rough, hedonistic, tattoo-laden sexual pursuits in the club toilet as his only solution?_

 

Louis slumped and sluggishly approached his side of the bed. His eyes stung and he felt wearier than a couple circuits around the inside of his house merited.

 

 _God, I must have been walking for hours._ He checked his watch: 10:00 p.m.

 

_Oh, bugger off._

 

*

 

Louis was now doing yet another thing that he had sworn he’d never again do: cooking. Well, making fresh lemonade actually. But it was close enough.

 

After trying and failing miserably to lull himself to sleep for the past four hours, he had decided to attempt to assuage his worry with action. Even if Harry was upset with him, he didn’t have to sit idly by and wait for him to leave. He was a secret agent, dammit, and it was time he started actively trying to solve his problems instead of walking around the flat like some helpless, forsaken puppy.

 

So he was planning to greet Harry, when he inevitably returned home, with lemonade. It was simple, sweet, and fruity (well, it’s made from fruit and that freaking counts for something, _okay_?). The perfect embodiment of one, Harry Styles.

 

Plus, his partner would probably be smashed when he got home and would be less likely to notice if the lemonade tasted like piss. But that was just a bonus.

 

Louis bustled around the kitchen, frantically navigating the maze that was normally Harry’s domain to find a pitcher and the necessary ingredients.

_Ingredients… ingredi… wait. What the hell do you even need to make lemonade?_

 

He closed his eyes and tried to picture the tiny, makeshift lemonade stand that used to reside in his mom’s front yard during the summer months, back when his sisters will still young enough to be thrilled by the prospect of opening their own neighborhood lemonade stand.

_Lemons, water, and sugar._ His perfect recall was still intact, it seemed.

 

Thankfully, he was able to find these ingredients with ease. Sometimes living with the most domestic human being he had ever met had its perks.

 

Louis stared down at the countertop, now chaotically adorned with his supplies.

 

_I can just throw them all in and stir, I suppose._

  
With the exception of having to fight with the lemon squeezer for about twenty minutes (hey, it wasn’t his fault if the stupid appliance was a spiteful little devil), the process went smoothly and he soon had a pitcher full of bright yellow lemonade.

 

_See, Lou, this cooking thing isn’t that hard._

Exhausted from such taxing work, he poured himself a glass. Eager to taste the fruits of his labor, he took a sip… and then proceeded to spit it directly back into his cup.

 

The “lemonade,” though he wasn’t entirely sure it could be called lemonade anymore, was bitter, watery, and _warm_. Without noticing he had used warm water to make the lemonade, having just assumed that a refreshing coldness was a fundamental, unalterable attribute of the drink he had so often consumed (but never made, of course) on scorching summer afternoons.

 

 _AH_. He raked his hands through his soft, tangled hair.

 

 _Maybe it will cool down before Harry gets home._ He took a deep breath. _Yes, it will definitely cool down before Harry gets home. He won’t even be able to tell that I botched it up at all._

 

He placed the pitcher down on the center of the counter (in plain sight) and turned to face the front door with a big smile plastered across his face.

 

_It shouldn’t be too long now…_

_*_

 

Louis pried his face off of the cool marble of the kitchen counter with a groan. He had been waiting for hours and still Harry wasn’t home.

 

 _Where the fuck is he?_ The morning light was already flowing steadily into the flat, outlining everything in a thick layer of bright gold that couldn’t have deviated any farther from Louis’s mood.

 

His body was exhausted, but his mind, fueled by a rapid, never-ending stream of worried thoughts, was manically alert.

 

_What if he left? What if he hates me and isn’t ever coming back? What if he wants to move out and never speak to me again?_

Though he was too tired to move, he yearned to return to pacing the circuit which he had created last night. The hem of his shirt was torn all the way around (the result of endless picking) and his bottom lip was too raw to worry at any further. He needed an outlet.

 

_Calm down, Lou. Just think about this. What if Harry did leave? Why are you so terrified of facing that possible reality?_

 

Louis paused. Undeniably the thought of losing Harry was one from which his mind, hell his whole body, recoiled. That was just how it was. But Louis, who had so often prided himself on his autonomy, on his ability to care for himself even in most dire situations, had never really questioned his dependence on his partner.

 

He needed Harry, truly needed him. He needed the other boy’s too large hands and warm, dopey body that enveloped his own with ease when he was worried or brought to tears by especially heart-wrenching Disney movies. He needed the soft, wild curls and the uneven smile and the glittering emerald eyes that told him exactly what Harry was thinking even when his face was devoid of all expression. He needed lean muscles and raspy baritones and the intricate weaving of dark tattoos against smooth, pale skin.

 

Louis’s breath hitched. He needed Harry. Not as a partner, not as a flat mate, but as someone who would always be integral to every part of his life. Someone who would always be there, regardless of the outside circumstances. He needed Harry Styles, in short, because he was in love with him.

 

The sudden sound of the door opening almost caused Louis to knock over the pitcher placed precariously beside him on the counter. He looked over, determined not to look too eager and knowing that he had failed enormously, and couldn’t remember how to breathe. Harry stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the rising sun. His messy curls, painted golden by the morning light, stood out in every which direction. The features of his face were partially obscured in shadow, lending them an angular appearance that only made Louis all the more aware of his masculinity. He looked cherubic and rugged all in one, an inextricable intermingling of innocence and stark sexuality.

 

He couldn’t help himself, he took a step forward. “H-harry…”

 

Then he noticed the faint smear of lipstick on Harry’s cheek, a garish red that mocked him with its caress. Louis’s heart dropped and his blood began to roil. He wasn’t sure if he was more mad or heartbroken, both emotions were so potent within him that he wasn’t sure he could discern one from the other if he tried.

 

“Hey, Lou. What’s up?” Harry’s voice was slurred, a testament to his poor night’s sleep.

 

“Nothing.” His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. He remembered now why he had wanted to keep things with Harry professional. He had devoted his entire life to his job and, despite all of the sacrifices he had made, he still loved it. There wasn’t anything else in the world that he could picture himself doing. And, as much as it killed him to admit it, loving Harry jeopardized all of that. He was a mess when he let his feelings for the other boy manifest themselves, going from anxious to depressed to filled with rage all in the span of a few seconds. All because Harry came home with a lipstick stain on his cheek, for Christ’s sake. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, yet Louis was still having trouble pacifying his anger. He couldn’t let himself love Harry. For his job if for nothing else.

 

“You just scared me, that’s all.” Louis said in response to his partner’s concerned expression.

 

He turned around without so much as another glance at the beautiful boy behind him and walked quickly into the kitchen. The sight of the lemonade pitcher, a reminder of the events leading up to the realization that he was in love with Harry Styles, sent a fresh wave of pain rolling into his gut. He could feel tears building behind his eyes, but he didn’t care. Grabbing the handle firmly, he emptied the contents of the pitcher into the kitchen sink and then hurried back to his room.

 

“Lou? Louis!? LOU?!” He shut the bedroom door on his partner’s concerned voice. It was all just too much for him right now. Louis stumbled onto his bed and was finally overcome by his exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the angst continues. What'd you think?


	11. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mere, babe. It’ll be okay.”
> 
> Louis looked at him speculatively, then purposefully, slowly turned away. Harry’s chest twinged painfully.
> 
> “I won’t do it, Harry. You know how much I hate falling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're posting a little bit early this week because we are SWAMPED. We're also several hours apart at the moment, I'm in the small town I grew up in, and Cody's back in the city. We have separation anxiety. I HAVEN'T SEEN HIM SINCE THURSDAY NIGHT. IT'S HARD, OKAY?
> 
> We wanted to say a special thank you to all of you guys. We've gotten so many encouraging messages lately, which is great because our lives have been more difficult than usual, lately. But whenever I'm having a particularly rough day, it seems like one of you steps up and tells us that we're special and good at this, and that you're happier when you're reading our stuff (even though it's been angsty as all hell for the past few weeks). We can't tell you how much that means.
> 
> Just know that we honestly love each and every one of you, and that we hope we're helping you a fraction of the amount that you've helped us!
> 
> Love,  
> Raven and Cody

Louis had been ignoring Harry for four days.

 

Four.

 

Days.

 

Four. Four of the day-type things.

 

Which  probably didn’t seem like an eternity to the average person, but, well, the average person had never met Louis Tomlinson, had never caught him when he fell or eaten strawberries with him in a park, or…

 

Okay, so the average person did not have an excruciatingly embarrassing, raging crush on Louis Tomlinson.

 

Still.

 

It sucked.

 

It sucked in the most painfully obvious way. It sucked in such a painfully obvious way that, the thing is, Louis _had_ to have noticed, oh, say, four days before. And yet, every time Harry was in the same _room_ as him, he left with a pointed-sounding huff. But the worst part of the painfully obvious suckage was that it was painfully obvious that Harry couldn’t control his face when Louis was anywhere near him.

 

He hadn’t used puppy-dog eyes to this extent since he was three.

 

He was literally seconds away from throwing himself at Louis, pinning him down to the nearest horizontal surface, and… begging him to return some semblance of his manhood.

 

Gemma had taken to spending all of her time laughing at him and sending him ridiculous emoticons (“ _Honestly,_ Gemma, what does the tempura prawn, majestic as it is, have to do with my love life? Or advice on said love life? Gemma? Gemma????”)

 

Harry had nearly hung up on her the last time they talked. Which was, okay, the fifth time they had talked that day. Which may or may not have been 15 minutes ago. And it was 10 o’clock. In the morning. But she had started speaking in the baby voice that had annoyed him just as thoroughly when he was 8. “Awww wittle Hazza has his fiwst cwush.” He had not, of course, actually hung up on her. Mostly because he remembered June 14th, 2011, the last time he had hung up on her (“That was my Vietnam,” Harry whispered to himself). He might be a secret agent, but there are some people even he knows not to cross.

 

Still. His crush was becoming more and more embarrassingly obvious. That girl in the bathroom (“Lydia,” her business card had read) had known without even seeing them in the same room.

 

The way Harry saw it, he figured there were two possibilities. Either Louis knew and was awkwardly avoiding him because he was afraid Harry was going to try to kiss him or something (which, okay, valid, because he had very nearly kissed the toothpaste off his lip the morning before on the way into the bathroom), or Louis was, somehow, too insecure to understand that Harry wanted him, and was avoiding him for some other reason. The first seemed much more likely, not least because every time he thought about Louis feeling insecure, he wanted to weep and sing the latest boyband’s annoying hit.

 

Yes, he knew it. Everyone knew it. The short one was fit. Whatever.

 

So. So, following that logic, Louis knew that Harry would do anything for him, that he thought about him and dreamt about him, and that, if he had a pink sparkly diary, he would write “Mrs. Louis Tomlinson” in the margins. Louis knew all of that, he _had_ to, and he was ignoring Harry.

 

Harry was almost certain that, though he had never personally faced the cruel sting of rejection before, this is what it looked like.

 

“Fuck,” Harry muttered enthusiastically, if quietly, to himself, “ _Fuck_.”

 

“Language, Harold,” Louis chirped from the kitchen before freezing, comically clutching the orange juice to his chest with one hand, the other clasped over his mouth.

 

It was the first thing he had said to Harry in four days and suddenly, Harry felt like the couple of steps separating the living room and the kitchen were much too large a distance. So, he stumbled to his feet and then righted himself, ears turning pink.

 

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last time he thanked God for the fact that they were covered by his hair.

 

He stalked through the space between them in long strides, ending just inches away from a rather frightened-looking Louis.

 

Harry wanted to knit him a sweater or something. It was outrageously emasculating.

 

Nearly growling in frustration, he backed his partner into the fridge, pressing his hands next to Louis’s (reassuringly just as red as his felt) ears.

 

Nudging his nose across the shell of one of them, he growled “D’you have a problem with the word ‘fuck,’ Tomlinson?”

 

Louis giggled nervously. It was adorable. Harry kind of wanted to suck his dick.

 

“Because,” Harry continued, flattening his hand across the fluttering pulse in Louis’s neck, “I seem to remember you using it quite a lot the first time I met you.”

 

Louis pushed him back suddenly. Harry didn’t try to stop him. It was an unfair move, bringing up that first night. But the way Louis was nearly expanding with anger hurt Harry more than the shove. Who knew that having sex with Harry would be such a bad memory for Louis?

 

“Y-You’re…” Louis was stuttering, fists clenched. It looked like he was about to cry. “You’re a fucking b-bully.”

 

Harry felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He remembered when Louis told him about his stepfather, how he had described him as a bully and Harry just wanted to hit him for making Louis feel like he was anything less than perfect.

 

Louis stormed off, but not before Harry had the last word. Just like he always had to. Like a _bully._

 

“Language, Lou!”

 

When the door slammed, he felt it under his feet.

 

#

 

“Alright, kids,” Agent Cowell’s voice instantly silenced the group of agents.

 

Harry and Louis hadn’t been talking.

 

“Today should be fairly simple. You’ve worked hard with your partners, so today is a reminder of just how far you’ve come. Trust falls. _Now._ ”

 

Exaggerated, fond groans filled the room as the partners split up.

 

Harry and Louis didn’t make eye contact.

 

Louis slowly climbed to the top of the platform, one arm circling his stomach, hand clasping his opposite elbow. He looked like he was holding himself together.

 

He looked like he was falling apart.

 

“We got this, Lou,” Harry shouted up at him weakly.

 

Louis glared at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

 

The whistle blew, and the other agents began to lean backward and drop. Except for Louis.

 

“Sorry, Lou. I didn’t mean to patronize you. Come on, let’s just get this over with.”

 

Louis frowned at him petulantly, then walked to the very edge, peeking over.

 

“I can’t,” Harry barely heard over the sound of the other agents.

 

“We’ve done it before. C’mon, Lou. You know I’ll catch you every time.”

 

Louis didn’t answer and appeared to be hunched over, clutching at his stomach. Harry couldn’t watch it anymore. He ran up the platform and held his arms open.

 

“C’mere, babe. It’ll be okay.”

 

Louis looked at him speculatively, then purposefully, slowly turned away. Harry’s chest twinged painfully.

 

“I won’t do it, Harry. You know how much I hate falling.”

 

Agent Cowell called up to them, “Why are my star pupils the last ones? Come on, boys, the suspense is killing me.”

 

Harry chanced one last look at Louis. He was shaking, curled in around himself.

 

“We won’t be completing the challenge, sir. I apologize.”

 

Agent Cowell’s face darkened and he sent the rest of the inexperienced agents to a seminar before storming up the platform himself.

 

“You boys have been off all week. I don’t know what the _fuck_ your problem is, but if you continue this way, you’ll end up getting each other killed out in the actual field.”

 

Both boys flinched. Harry wanted to cry. It was the first time they had been so seriously reprimanded and he could _feel_ Louis’s breathing start to hitch as he started a nearly silent anxiety attack.

 

Agent Cowell sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. “Harry, go take care of your boy. I don’t want to see either of your faces back here until you’ve figured this out.” He turned his back to them and left.

 

“Come on,” Harry finally said, trying to throw his arm around Louis’s shoulders out of habit. His hand met only air. Louis had dodged it like a blow. “Fucking… are you… ugh!” Harry made a noise that was a slightly less than coherent and stomped off, not looking back to make sure Louis was following.

 

#

 

When Louis finally caught up to him at the flat, Harry had made him a cup of tea. He may have been infuriating as hell, but Louis had just had a panic attack, and he normally liked a hot cup after those.

 

Louis took one look at the mug and slammed the door. Hard. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know. I know Cowell just called me your boy, but I certainly am not.”

 

That hurt more than Harry wanted to admit. It looked like it was time to talk about Harry’s crush. He slammed his hand against the table to absorb some of the sting. “You’ve made that absolutely clear, don’t worry. It’s not like we’re _best friends_ or anything. It isn’t like you’ve told me everything about you!”

 

“Don’t,” Louis said, and his voice was maybe quieter than Harry had ever heard it.

 

“No. No, I think I’m going to. Because _fuck_ , Louis. I get that we’ve been acting strangely or whatever. It makes sense, since we’re both refusing to acknowledge this whole _stupid_ thing.” Harry’s stomach dropped and he faltered for a second. It was the first time wither of them had directly addressed Harry’s blatant feelings. “But you didn’t even _try_ today, Louis. We completed that same exact thing the first day we actually knew each other. I don’t get it, Lou.”

 

Louis’s face was flushed a dark red and his fists were clenched. “You don’t? I swear, Harry. You’re so _stupid_ sometimes.”

 

Harry reeled at that for a second. He got it. Falling for Louis was completely idiotic. But did Louis really need to throw it in his face like that? “Then fucking explain it!” He yanked at his hair in frustration.

 

“Isn’t it obvious? _I don’t trust you_.”

 

All of the air went out of the room.

 

“You don’t… you don’t trust me?” Harry could feel his eyes welling up. He bit down on his lip. “What could I have possibly done, Louis? I would _die_ for you. This whole…” he gestured wildly at the elephant in the room “… _thing_ isn’t _my_ fault.” How could Louis blame him for falling for him? How could he possibly be angry at him for it?

 

Louis choked out a half-laugh, half-sob. “Goodnight, Harry. I can’t… look, it’s been a rough day, and I need to just go to sleep.”

 

Harry nodded, his expression carefully blank. “‘Night.”

 

He poured Louis’s mug out in the sink and curled into a ball on the couch.

 

He didn’t fall asleep until much later. He couldn’t seem to get warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It was hard to write, too. I promise. But it had to get worse before it got better, and, well, this is the worst it will be... for a little while, anyway. 
> 
> Go on, rant at us. You know you want to!


	12. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He looked over at Harry and instantly regretted it. The other boy wasn’t looking at him with scorn or condescension as he had been expecting; he was looking at him with affection. The corners of his big mouth were lifted up slightly, his emerald eyes were wide open and glittering with amusement, and it all left Louis feeling as if a speeding train had just collided with his gut. Fine. Maybe love wasn’t a strong enough word for how he felt about Harry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> We know this is late, but that's because CODY was too busy swooning over his love life. Which, whatever, maybe I'm a little bitter that he has one and I just have a ridiculous crush on a boy with pretty eyes in one of my classes.  
> We went to see an INSANE concert on Saturday -- Kings of Leon, Janelle Monet, Alicia Keys, John Mayer, AND STEVIE WONDER. There may have been some twerkage from both Cody and I during Stevie. Don't judge us. For an old guy, he's rather twerkable.  
> Enjoy the chapter!  
> xx Raven and Cody

****

Louis

 

“Stupid, stubborn, _stupid_ boy.” Louis muttered under his breath as he jumped out of his bedroom window. He landed with a soft thud in the grass below and, deciding that this was as good a place as any to sulk, sat down.

 

“I cannot believe he banished me from the flat.” He whispered, plucking a small, pearly white flower mid rant. Okay, so maybe Harry hadn’t actually said anything that implied he wanted Louis to leave. Come to think of it, Harry hadn’t said anything at all. For days. Three days, 16 hours, and 35 minutes, to be exact. Not that he was counting the minutes or anything.

 

He tore a petal off of the flower he was holding, detaching it from its too-green stem that too closely resembled a pair of too-green eyes. _He loves me not._

 

 But Harry had forced him to leave. He had taken his delivery of the silent treatment to such an extent that he wouldn’t even respond to Louis’s polite and definitely not cliché attempts at making small talk. “So, that’s some nice weather we’re having, yeah?” “Picked up any new hobbies, lately?” “How’s work?” Harry responded to all of these comments by striding into the bathroom, slamming the door shut, and turning on the shower. Maybe the real problem was that his flat mate had a pathological fear of germs. He sighed. A boy can hope, okay?

 

He plucked another petal from the flower. _He loves me._ In all reality, the flat had become stifling over the past few days. Even when he was in a different room, he could still feel the weight of Harry’s forced silence weighing down upon him. It was as if he lived inside of some highly pressurized bubble that followed him around the apartment, relentlessly threatening to suffocate him at any given moment. All because his ass of a partner refused to stop being such a stupid _boy_. He crushed the next petal between his fingers and watched as the tiny white fragments spun lazily to the ground. _He loves me not._

 

Louis raked an agitated hand through his hair. It felt coarse, warped into a tangled mess by the stress which had resulted in his uncharacteristic inattention to his appearance. Okay so maybe Harry was right, maybe this wasn’t all _his_ fault. After all, Harry couldn’t help that Louis had broken all of the rules and fallen in love with him. Louis balled his hands into fists. However, that still did not give Harry the right to call him out like that, to insinuate that Louis had been the one to cause the problem that had so obviously wedged its way between them. To assert that the love he felt for Harry was at fault and merited the silent treatment. It was callous, callous and inexcusable. _He loves me._

 

Maybe love was too strong a word for what he felt for Harry. He felt something, yes, but maybe what he was experiencing was just a crush, a tiny insignificant crush that had been dramatically blown out of proportion when Harry had walked into their flat the morning after the lemonade debacle. He had walked in with the sun rising behind him, all shadowed panes and golden-fringed curls. At that moment what person wouldn’t have convinced himself that he was in love with Harry freaking Styles, dorky Adonis extraordinaire? But it had just been a literal trick of the light, yet another one of Mother Nature’s myriad attempts to reclaim her throne as the sassiest sovereign the universe had ever seen. Well she could take a freaking number and wait for him to grow tired of living the royal life. He wasn’t in love with Harry, despite the world’s attempts to make him think otherwise. Hell, he didn’t even care if his miniscule crush was reciprocated.

 

Louis ripped the last petal off of the flower. _He loves me not._

 

“Fuck!” He jumped to his feet and threw the petal-less stem to the ground.

 

 “Stupid flowers and stupid boys. Stupid boys and stupid flowers. Everything stupid.” He muttered to himself as he stood on his tip toes and tried to pull himself gracefully back inside his bedroom window.

 

#

 

Fine. If he was going to apologize to Harry, he was going to do it right. Louis stood in the center of the kitchen and surveyed each of the nefarious appliances that he would be forced to use. Eggs, toast, and orange juice. He would need the toaster and a frying pan, that’s it. Messing up such a simple breakfast would constitute a feat of astronomical proportions, even for him. Besides, this time he wasn’t trying to make his own juice. Tropicana for the win.

 

Though for the apology to be a success, its recipient would have to make an appearance. Upon crawling back through his bedroom window (and tumbling head first onto the floor… intentionally, of course) he had been surprised to find the flat empty. Though, in all honesty, he really shouldn’t have been that surprised. It’s kind of hard for your roommate to let you know where he’s going when he is obstinately refusing to talk to you. Regardless, Louis was counting on the fact that Harry would come home at some point (probably to retrieve one of his Disney movies so that he could have a cuddle party with Niall or something equally deplorable, but Louis really wasn’t in a position to complain).

 

He took a deep breath and tried to channel his inner Harry. Right, he should start with the eggs. Louis turned on the stove burner that was closest to him and proceeded to retrieve a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. _See Lou, this isn’t so bad._ Next, he returned to the refrigerator for the butter (and cursed himself for not grabbing it when he was getting the eggs) and the loaf of bread that was sitting on the far counter. Feeling a bit more confident now that he had actually managed to find all of the necessary ingredients, he popped two pieces of bread into the toaster and then successfully added two eggs to the frying pan (WITHOUT GETTING ANY SHELLS IN THE YOLK, BOO FREAKING YAH). The addition of the eggs to the pan was immediately followed by the satisfying sound of sizzling eggs. Louis fixed the pan with an imperial smile.

 

Having decided not to push his luck (which given his track record with kitchens he thought was beyond reasonable), he began to stir the quickly congealing eggs into what he considered to be a very scrambled arrangement. _Ding!_

_Oh, the toast is done!_ Convinced he had now attained the status of professional chef (with a little professional housewife/househusband thrown in there as well) Louis put his spatula on the counter and went to retrieve the toast. Which, to his chagrin, still retained its off-yellow complexion. He rolled his eyes and fixed the toaster with a glare.

 

“You had one job, one freaking job. I give you bread and you cook it until it develops a glistening crust that is equal parts golden and brown. Is that so hard?” He adjusted the power on the toaster and slammed the steaming bread back inside. _Must I do everything?_

 

Louis had just decided to stand and watch the toaster to ensure its obedience when the pungent aroma of smoke and burning eggs assaulted his nostrils. _WHAT? NO NO NO._

 

He ran back to the stove, where tiny red flames were now making their ways up blackened lumps of overcooked egg. Louis quickly turned off the burner (which he just now realized he had left unattended on high power), and reached for the newspaper that he had placed on the counter so that Harry could read the funnies with his meal. Gripping it like a baseball bat, he began to swat at the flames in an effort to douse them before they grew any larger. The newspaper caught fire almost instantly, rousing the tiny flames into a moderate fire, and Louis let go with a shriek. _What do I do? WHAT DO I DO? AT LEAST HARRY ISN’T HERE TO SEE THIS._

 

Of course, it was at almost exactly that moment that Harry decided to run in the front door.

 

“Louis!” He yelled upon seeing the blazing stove. “Are you okay? What happened?”

 

“I was trying to make you breakfast, you _stupid_ tosser! To apologize for how I’ve been acting lately!” Louis didn’t even bother to hide his now crimson face.

 

He looked over at Harry and instantly regretted it. The other boy wasn’t looking at him with scorn or condescension as he had been expecting; he was looking at him with affection. The corners of his big mouth were lifted up slightly, his emerald eyes were wide open and glittering with amusement, and it all left Louis feeling as if a speeding train had just collided with his gut. Fine. Maybe love wasn’t a strong _enough_ word for how he felt about Harry.

 

“You, apologize? I didn’t know you had it in you, Tomlinson.” Harry teased.

 

“Oh, shut up.” Writing up breakfast as a complete loss, Louis grabbed the nearby carton of Tropicana and emptied its contents onto the flames. Though it crackled loudly in protest, the fire was extinguished in a matter of seconds. _Ding!_

 

It was all he could do to suppress his groan. He walked over to the toaster and, seeing its blackened contents, proceeded to sit down on the kitchen floor. _Done._

Harry, undoubtedly noticing the burnt toast, began to laugh uncontrollably. His warm, buoyant chuckle floated around the room, bouncing off the walls and filling Louis with an amusement that he knew was not his own. Nonetheless, he succumbed to a fit of laughter, unable to stop the steady stream of giggles from escaping his mouth.

 

“So, Lou.” He heard Harry gasp from across the room.

 

“Yeah?” He choked back.

 

“Want me to order some Chinese? We can eat and watch Mulan and pretend that you didn’t almost burn our kitchen to the ground.” He could hear the barely restrained laughter in his partner’s voice.

 

“It was not that bad, Harold. Just a small conflagration, that’s all. But yes, God yes. If I never see eggs or toast again in my life, I will die a happy man.” Before he even had a chance to breathe, Harry was beside him and pulling him up into a crushing hug.

 

“I missed you, Lou.” Though the other boy’s voice was barely a whisper, Louis felt it resonate throughout his entire body.

 

“I missed you too, Haz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO THE ANGST WAS ENDED. FOR A LITTLE. OKAY SO NOTHING WAS RESOLVED AT ALL. OOPS.


	13. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yeah, Harry was so in love with him that it was actually beginning to bruise his ribcage. But for the first time, he wasn’t angry about it. For the first time, he didn’t wish he was in love with anyone but his partner. Because making eggs benedict too early in the morning with this beautiful, beautiful person wiping the sleep out of his eyes and leaning into him so casually, just trusting him to hold him up, Harry knew he couldn’t ask for anything more. Being Louis Tomlinson’s kitchen slave, falling in unrequited love with him… it was better than being anyone else’s boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooooooo
> 
> So this week was less of a suckfest for Cody (HIS BOY IS COMING BACK TO VISIT US AT THE END OF THIS MONTH), and more of a suckfest for me. Because. Bleh. But Cody deserves the best of things, so I'm not even mad.
> 
> Oh! And for those of you who want an update on my tragic lack of a love life, this boy I have a crush on is KILLING me. He called me NATURALLY CHARISMATIC the other day. He just? So? Nice? Nice boy with nice face and also nice words? HELP.
> 
> Anywhooo this chapter actually let me write some fluff along with our regular dosage of angst, so please feel free to coo at these sickeningly adorable asshole spies. 
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

Harry woke up slowly, stretching into it. He was warmer than he was used to, more comfortable.

 

Also… heavier? When his back arched, he met more resistance than normal.

 

He blearily blinked his eyes open.

 

Louis was sitting, cross-legged on his chest. Wrapped in his duvet. Eating Lucky Charms. His eyes were focused on Harry’s and he was leaning forward, like he did when he watched scary movies or too many episodes of _Keeping Up with the Kardashians_.

 

“Er…” Harry said articulately.

 

“Good! You’re up!”

 

“-ish. Up-ish.” Harry mumbled, scratching his hands over his scalp.

 

“It counts.” Louis carefully settled his bowl on the stained coffee table before leaning forward, readjusting so that he was straddling Harry and absent-mindedly tracing his eyebrows, his cheekbones, and his nose with his fingertips.

 

Harry’s hands flailed for a minute before settling on Louis’s waist. He nuzzled into Louis’s hands, chasing the touch.

 

“You’re such a kitten when you first wake up, sweetheart,” Louis said, his voice quiet. Harry hummed happily at the term of endearment and it was very nearly a purr.

 

Louis giggled and the sound was like… joy. Or prancing unicorns or some shit. Harry smiled at him dopily.

 

“Do you know what good kittens do for their handlers?” Louis cuddled in closer, letting his early-morning stubble rasp against Harry’s neck, his lips catching on the corner of Harry’s jaw. Harry considered offering to groom Louis with his tongue, since kittens did that and he was apparently a kitten as well as a secret agent, man’s man, lady’s man, and man about town. But, apparently, Louis’s question was rhetorical. “Good kittens make their handlers eggs benedict.”

 

Harry laughed so hard that it made Louis bounce in his lap. Which. It was _morning_ and Louis was bouncing up and down and straddling Harry’s hips. The gods were testing him. “Weren’t you just eating breakfast?”

 

“Why Harry, you absolute heathen, it’s as if you’ve never heard of an appetizer. I expected more from the boy with the posh accent.” Harry rolled his eyes and sat up, keeping his hands on Louis’s waist and bending his knees, so that Louis’s fingernails scrabbled for purchase on this skin of his shoulders.

 

Louis’s voice was a little hoarse and his eyes were wide. “Nice, um, upper body strength.”

 

Harry leaned forward, letting his grin get a little predatory. “You should see what I can do with my lower body.” Then he pecked Louis on the cheek and stood, lifting Louis with him and then placing him gently back on the couch. “Let me go to the bathroom and then I’ll make your eggs.” And if he added a little swing to his hips on the way to the bathroom, oh well.

 

Of course, he realized once he got to the bathroom that there is literally no way Louis didn’t realize he was sitting on what basically amounted to Mount Everest. Mount Everest in his pants. Mount Peenerest. So he went for a quick wank and the good news was that Louis wouldn’t even have been able to miss him, because after that wakeup call, he barely even had to touch himself, just bite his lip to keep the sounds to a minimum.

 

Louis William Tomlinson, destroyer of stamina everywhere.

 

Harry shook his head and walked out of the bathroom. He poked his head around the corner and just watched Louis for a moment.

 

Louis was the best person to just… sit and admire what he was like. A strange mix of comedy and grace, still snuggled up in the fluffy white duvet with it trailing behind him like a royal train.

 

He kept putting ingredients on the counter, then turning around and putting them back in the fridge.

 

“Asparagus, Louis?” Harry asked, “Really?”

 

“Okay, so maybe I don’t know all the ingredients for eggs benedict. Normally, I just use my feminine wiles to get food from my favorite superspy partner.” He fluttered his eyelashes and Harry shivered. He blamed it on oversensitivity from his recent orgasm, which, okay, was also due to his ridiculously painful crush on Louis, so he wasn’t exactly saving himself from embarrassment there. Whatever.

 

“Your only superspy partner, Lou,” Harry said, putting the asparagus and kiwi back into the fridge and the garlic salt back in the cabinet.

 

“My one and only,” Louis sighed dramatically, blowing him a kiss.

 

And it was a joke, was always a joke, but that didn’t change the fact that Harry had to bite his lip to stop himself from blurting out I love yous.

 

Louis drummed his fingers on the countertop anxiously. Probably because Harry hadn’t joked back or said anything and was frozen in place, staring at the stove like he’d never seen one before. “I’m sorry,” Louis said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

 

Harry grinned half-heartedly because nothing was really fixed, was it? “Come here.”

 

Louis walked to him hesitantly and Harry pulled him in, tucked him under one of his arms and nuzzled into his hair until Louis wrapped both arms tightly around his stomach. They swayed back and forth for a long moment, silent and warm and sleepy.

 

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” Harry said, his voice quiet and thick.

 

Louis pressed a kiss over Harry’s heart and it skipped a beat then pounded so hard, he went light headed. Harry’s cheeks stained red.

 

“So the first thing you do,” Harry said to Louis, his lips brushing his favorite spot on his temple, “is make the hollandaise sauce.”

 

Louis hummed in assent and the two spent their morning moving through their tiny kitchen, Harry whispering instructions and demonstrating, Louis wrapped around Harry like an electric blanket. They stepped perfectly in time, practically dancing, never once tripping over the other’s feet.

 

And yeah, Harry was so in love with him that it was actually beginning to bruise his ribcage. But for the first time, he wasn’t angry about it. For the first time, he didn’t wish he was in love with anyone but his partner. Because making eggs benedict too early in the morning with this beautiful, beautiful person wiping the sleep out of his eyes and leaning into him so casually, just trusting him to hold him up, Harry knew he couldn’t ask for anything more. Being Louis Tomlinson’s kitchen slave, falling in unrequited love with him… it was better than being anyone else’s boyfriend.

 

#

 

Louis ate his eggs quickly, then tugged Harry through getting dressed. “Come on, H! We’re going to be late!”

 

“Louuuu,” Harry whined, trying desperately not to get hard as Louis’s hands skimmed over the sensitive skin on his stomach, buttoning his shirt. “We don’t need to be there for another two hours.”

 

“Harold, who’s the brains of this operation?”

 

Harry could feel his smile take over his face at the sound of the old nickname. “You, Lou.” Because, whatever Louis had planned, ritual suicide, serial murders, whatever, Harry was pretty sure he would follow him blindly.

 

#

 

They arrived at headquarters thirty minutes later, using the retina scanner to access the training facilities.

 

“Wait here,” Louis said, pecking him on the cheek. His hands were shaking, Harry noticed.

 

“Are you okay, babe?”

 

“Fine.” Louis ran through a door and Harry was left alone for a few brief minutes, impatiently waiting.

 

“Catch!” Louis yelled from somewhere above him. Harry looked up just in time to open his arms and catch a free-falling Louis.  

 

Harry pulled him closer to his chest instinctively. His entire body was trembling, and when he tried to put him down to check for injuries, his arms tightened around his neck.

 

“Can you just… for a minute? M-my knees won’t be able to hold me up yet.”

 

Harry promptly sat down on the padded floor, readjusting Louis to sit sideways on his lap. Louis buried his face in Harry’s neck and Harry trailed the back of his knuckles over the line of bumps his vertebrae made against his skin, over and over again, until he was shaking less.

 

“Where did you even jump from?” Harry asked. They were across the room from the platform.

 

“The second floor,” Louis whimpered. Harry looked up. That was at least 30 feet and Louis had to have dropped backwards, in the trust fall pose. It had to have been terrifying.

 

“ _Lou_ ,” his eyes pricked with tears, “you didn’t have to do that, love.”

 

“I did, though,” Louis said, curling his fingers into the collar of Harry’s shirt. “I had to make sure that you knew it was never about trust. I’ve always trusted you. I just got scared.”

 

“You don’t need to prove anything to me, Lou. Not ever.” He pressed a kiss to where Louis’s pulse was still racing.

 

Louis’s breath caught and Harry pulled away sheepishly. “Sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

 

“It’s fine,” Louis said, but the moment was over.

 

It was probably for the best, Harry tried to convince himself. Other agents were starting to trickle in and it probably wouldn’t be the best thing to be spotted cuddling with his partner. Especially since he was pretty sure every inch of his face was broadcasting how much he loved said partner.

 

#

 

“Styles, you’re staying behind for a few,” Cowell yelled across the room.

 

Louis stopped and turned with Harry in unison – like they were one person. It was probably weird to watch.

 

Agent Cowell certainly raised his eyebrows of doom. “Just Agent Styles, Tomlinson. You can wait for him in the locker room.

 

Louis shuffled off pathetically, looking back at them several times before he finally left the room.

 

“Styles.”

 

“Agent Cowell.”

 

“Call me Simon, just for this talk, okay?” Simon ran his hands through his hair, his stance relaxed.

 

“Um… alright.”

 

“Harry, what are you doing?”

 

Harry looked at him, at his pitying stare. “You mean Louis, don’t you?” He sighed and his shoulders slumped forward.

 

“Well, son, you’re far from subtle,” Simon said.

 

“I can’t help it. It really can’t. I’ve tried, honestly I have.”

 

Simon chuckled. “I’ve noticed.”

 

“Are you kicking me out?” Harry asked. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground.

 

“I’m not kicking either of you out, not yet. You’re our most promising agents. But you have to do something about all of these…” he gestured wildly, “ _feelings._ Or, you could always choose them over this career.”

 

“That isn’t an option, sir,” Harry said. “The feelings are one-sided.”

 

“Are you sure? It seems sometimes like…”

 

Harry cut him off. “No. We’ve discussed it.”

 

“Well, as your boss, I’m glad. But as someone who has become fond of the both of you, I’m sorry that your relationship won’t be going anywhere.”

 

“It’s better this way, anyhow,” Harry said, “We’d never work.”

 

Simon smiled at him, a little sadly. “You keep telling yourself that.”

 

Harry wanted to cry a little.

 

Louis wasn’t in the locker room; it was empty. So Harry sat down and stared at the wall for a few minutes. Because maybe he’d still choose Louis every single time, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt whenever he realized Louis would never choose him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was there cooing? 
> 
> PS I don't know if we've mentioned this, but we're always here for character asks!!


	14. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing, Harry?”
> 
> “Nothing. I… I just missed you is all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loyal followers,  
> So this week has been... rough. But slowly getting better. I made some really great cheesecake for a friend's birthday and had some really great guacamole at her party, Cody's boyf is coming in a week, my best friend is coming tomorrow, and I expect to watch a lot of Dylan O'Brien Comic Con clips this week :)). Which. YUM. Hopefully I'll stop being such a lump now.  
> AND OH MY GOD THE BOY WITH THE EYES. HE LIKES MY TASTE IN MUSIC AND HE TOLD ME HE LOVED ME IN JOHN GREEN SPEAK I THINK MAYBE A LITTLE.  
> (Help me)  
> Advice would be lovely.  
> xx Raven and Cody

Louis

 

Louis wished more than anything that he had _not_ climbed back onto this _fucking_ platform. All he had wanted was to eavesdrop on his partner and his boss. It was a perfectly justifiable and in no way insane desire. Granted, sneaking past them and climbing up the platform ladder as all of the other spies had been filing into the locker room may have been a smidge over the top, but it wasn’t his fault that the two of them were too oblivious to notice. Oblivious secret agents, what the hell even was this world anymore?

 

But they weren’t the only ones who had been oblivious. Louis cemented his eyes shut and tried to fight back the words that were relentlessly attempting to permeate his consciousness.

_“The feelings are one-sided.”_

_“We’d never work.”_

 

How could he have been so _stupid?_ He could feel the sting of rallying tears building behind his eyelids. AH.

 

He pounded his fist against the platform. _OUCH. THAT NEVER WORKS, LOUIS. NEVER._

Fist throbbing, he crawled his way over to the ladder that would lead him safely back to the ground. He grabbed it with one hand and, after glancing below, recoiled from the edge of the platform.

 

“Well, that’s a hell no.” He grumbled. Louis returned the center of the flat surface and laid down on his back. He could feel his pulse thrumming frantically against his wrists.

 

How the hell had he managed to fall from so high a distance before? The only thing missing now was… fuck. Of course it was Harry, of course everything was easier when he was around. Harry, who not only did not love him in return, but who was also probably aware that Louis was so far gone that he saw curly-haired, tattoo-laden Adonis’s every night in his sleep. Stifling a groan, he rolled onto his side and hugged his knees.

_It’s okay, Louis. You can fix this. You just have to go to Harry and reestablish yourself as his 100% platonic roommate/best friend/partner who is in no way, shape, or form resembles a love-struck, sexually frustrated puppy. Right. Completely doable._

 

He looked towards the ladder and grimaced.

_I’ll just wait for someone to come by and help me down first._

 

*

 

It was already well past dusk when Louis stumbled into the flat. Which, to be fair, wasn’t _so_ bad considering that he might not have made it home at all had it not been for some scrawny, pimply-faced, intern who had stayed late at the agency (who he may or may not have intimidated into secrecy after his feet had found the blessed ground once more).

 

“Hey!” Harry chirped from the sofa. “Where have you been?”

 

“Oh, you know.” Hearing how fragile it sounded, he immediately tried to imbue his voice with a healthy dosage of rugged nonchalance. “I just stayed late to get in some extra training. It was very rigorous.”

 

“Lou… are you growling?” Harry arched one too-perfect brow.

 

Louis choked. Literally choked. It took all of his acting skills, acquired during years of participating in school musicals, to transform his desperate sputtering into a passible faux cough.

“Of course not. I just had something down my throat. IN. I had something IN my throat. Like a hair or a… TEA. Want some tea?” Louis chomped down on his bottom lip.

 

“No thanks, Boobear. Are you okay?” Harry was staring at him as if he had grown an extra head.

 

“Mhmmm, fine.” Louis was pretty sure that he’d still want to pin Harry to the couch and bugger his brains out even if he had three heads.

 

“Alright… want to watch Peter Pan?” His partner’s emerald eyes glittered with excitement.

 

He stifled a groan. “Sure, H-Haz.” How was he supposed to act normal when his partner was this enthusiastic about PETER PAN? He had never been so aroused by someone’s inner four year old in his entire life.

 

Tentatively, he made his way over to the couch and sat on the opposite side of Harry. 77 minutes. He just had to last 77 minutes and then he could go to his room and curl up into a ball and start dealing with this mess on his own.

 

“Come hereeee, Louisss.” Harry was on him before he even had a chance to blink, wiggling himself between Louis and the couch and intertwining their limbs in an inextricable mass of cuddles.

 

“Now we can watch the movie.” His partner said contentedly.

 

Louis tried to relax, to ease into Harry as he had done on numerous other occasions (yes, most of them involving Disney marathons. No. Shame.). But he couldn’t. His muscled were seized by a tension that wouldn’t relent, no matter how much Harry readjusted and, thinking the movie was making him sad, rubbed his back and cooed softly in his ear. As usual, he could feel the other boy’s body heat seeping into him, encasing him in an extra layer of warmth. Combined with the kind, reassuring words and gentle caresses it was all so _overwhelming_.

 

He felt as if Harry’s presence were smothering him. It had been moments like these that had made Louis think, if only for a second, that he and Harry might have a future together. It had been on this couch, watching Peter Pan and Beauty and the Beast and Hercules that he had let himself imagine growing old with Harry Styles, of retiring from the agency and settling down in a nice house with a wide lawn that they could watch their kids run around on one day. But now, now he just felt _small_. He felt helpless and insecure and as if he were the most naïve person in the world for letting himself fantasize about being happy with the one person he knew from the beginning that he couldn’t have.

 

“Lou? Are you okay? Lou?” He could hear Harry speaking, but it was as if his words had to fight their way through a bank of fog before they could register in his brain.

 

“Yeah, Haz. I’m fine.” The response was automatic. He knew that his voice was devoid of any semblance of vivacity, but he was so lost within his own head that he suddenly couldn’t remember how to convey any emotion at all.

 

“Lou, Lou!” Harry was shaking him. In the back of his brain some small voice was yelling at him to respond, to be annoyed at his partner for yanking him around like a discarded rag doll. But he didn’t care. The tension had finally drained out of his muscles, leaving his body limp and exhausted in its wake. He wanted to sleep, but even thinking about walking to his room seemed like too much effort.

 

“I’m fine, Haz. Just tired from my workout.” He could hear himself trying to console Harry, but knew from the other boy’s persistent concern that he wasn’t putting enough energy into the endeavor.

 

“Really, Haz. I’m fine. I’m going to go to bed now.” It took him a while to realize that Harry wasn’t helping him to the bedroom. He felt like he was floating, walking in an exhausted daze that left him unaware of the workings of his body. It was only when he felt the cool linen of his pillow against his face that he registered he had finally managed to crawl into bed.

 

*

 

Louis hadn’t been able to sleep properly in three days. It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired because, well, he was _beyond_ tired. It was more that his mind wouldn’t stop worrying about Harry long enough for him to sleep more than two or three hours at a time. Though he had been trying to reestablish some inkling of normality between Harry and he, Louis knew that he was failing. He still walked around in a dazed, semi-lifeless state and it took all of his energy to address Harry in anything more nuanced than a quiet monotone.

 

It wasn’t fair to Harry, he knew that. He knew that Harry wasn’t the one who had brought about the current awkwardness in their relationship. And he wanted to be happy and sarcastic and to engage his partner in dynamic conversations about their favorite characters on New Girl (CECE ALL THE WAY). He just didn’t know how anymore, not when the love of his life, the only person who had ever really seen him for who he was, had confirmed that they would never be together.

 

“AH!” Louis screamed, and picked up the pace. Why he contemplated these things when he was running, he would never understand. Hell, why he had decided to go running in the first place was beyond him. It felt like DEATH. He understood perfectly why people hated those way too perfect human beings who had killer bodies because they were able to muster up the will power to exercise on a daily basis. Over-achievers.

 

Seeing their apartment complex, he began to sprint. It was only when he was running as fast as his legs could carry him that he was able to temporarily escape his thoughts. And he definitely appreciated the irony of running from his problems whilst actually running.

 

By the time he reached their front door, he was completely out of breath. His heart was pounding and he could already feel his limbs beginning to ache. He smiled. Perhaps now that his body was worn out, he would actually be able to sleep.

 

Louis walked into the flat, greeted Harry with a slightly more animated than usual hello, and then headed to the shower. He turned the water temperature up to scorching (or, rather, to what Harry told him constituted scorching for mere mortals), and submerged himself. When he finally crawled into bed, Louis felt more relaxed than he had in days.

 

*

 

At first, he thought he was dreaming. He could feel a larger, warmer frame wrapped around him and what felt like cool silk tickling his neck. A soft, rasping sound was emanating from somewhere behind him, and hot satin pressed against his back.

 

“W-what’s going on?” He whispered, feeling as if he had just been dragged by his hair out of the realm of the unconscious.

 

“Nothing, it’s just me.” Harry’s soft rasp seemed to flow around him, almost lulling him back to sleep. This can’t actually be happening.

 

He tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes and looked down. Tight, little curls were brushing his neck and large, barely covered limbs were pulling him back against a shirtless chest. Louis’s breath hitched.

 

“What are you doing, Harry?”

 

“Nothing. I… I just missed you is all.” His voice sounded incredibly, heart-wrenchingly sad.

 

“Oh.” He began to trace the outline of Harry’s right bicep with the pad of his thumb. “I missed you too.” His partner hugged him tighter, and Louis could feel his heartbeat thumping rhythmically against his back. He sighed.

 

“I missed you so much.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cody literally just told me to write this:  
> "Sorry, not sorry. YOLO."  
> Apparently, he is now a fratty douche.  
> Oh well. He has the abs for it.


	15. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was a moment when Harry should have been focused on flipping the eggs, but instead caught himself staring at Louis. His chest was tight and he couldn’t breathe, but it felt like the opposite of a panic attack. The thought that he had at one point imagined that this was just a crush made him want to laugh and cry at the same time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!  
> So Alex arrives in the city tomorrow, and we are all super excited! I hope he's ready for some pretty epic cuddles.  
> We're all exhausted from midterms and stuff, but my best friend from home was here all week, and that helped a lot. Sometimes that's all it takes to make your universe a little better!!  
> Also, the boy with the eyes called me eloquent and told me that we should take another class together next semester? I don't know, man. He's beautiful.  
> Thanks for everything, guys! You're really the best, and I know Cody and I both think of all of you as our friends! You definitely make our universe a little better. So do Harry Styles, with his yellow shorts of death, and fluffy Louis in a beanie.
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

“Right,” Harry told himself sternly. “Right. You’re going to fix this and you are going to Tim Gunn it and ‘make it work’ and it is going to be   _fine_ and you aren’t going to freak out, _no one is going to freak out_ because _there is nothing to freak out about_.”

 

“Hey,” Louis’s sleep-tinged voice broke into Harry’s very passionate and epic soliloquy. “No. We sleep now.” His hand came up from the nest of blankets and slapped his cheek and fumbled over his nose, finally resting against his mouth. “No more of the sound. _Sleep_.”

 

Harry looked at the clock. It was 4 AM. Louis had a point. He snuggled back down into the tangle of sheets from where had propped himself against the headboard.

 

Louis smacked his lips, mostly asleep, and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s waist, nuzzling his cheek against his chest like a cat. A cat with stubble.

 

“Ouch.”

 

Louis blinked one eye open and looked up at him. “You have four nipples. It is okay if I give one or two of them beard burn. You will still have the normal amount of nipples in commission.”

 

“You aren’t going to remember any of this in the morning, are you?”

 

Louis muttered something along the lines of “Why doesn’t grandma have any teeth, Santa?”

 

Harry grinned and nuzzled into Louis’s hair, letting the smell of his appallingly expensive shampoo soothe him to sleep. He had three out of four nipples in commission and the most beautiful boy in the world talking in his sleep, practically on top of him. All was well in the world.

 

#

 

The next morning, Harry woke up early. Despite his late (soliloquizing was important, okay?) night, he felt extremely well-rested. That had nothing NOTHING nOtHiNg to do with the boy still asleep beside him in bed. It had much more to do with the fact that he had been actually sleeping in a bed, instead of on a couch. Yes. That was the reason.

 

Still, he lingered there for awhile. He spent most of the time looking at Louis.

 

It was very creepy – very Edward Cullen – and he knew it. But Louis was a different person when he was awake – all manic energy and loud voice. When he was sleeping, he looked young, quiet. He slept like a rock, his body a dead weight against Harry’s, and Harry wondered aimlessly what it would take to wake him up. Would a hand brushing through his hair do it? Would he be easy to kiss awake? Would… He groaned quietly. That path led to unfortunate and torturous morning wood. And he had promised that he wouldn’t fuck it up this time.

 

He wouldn’t push, wouldn’t make Louis uncomfortable or let his less-than-platonic feelings show. Agent Cowell would be impressed.

 

But he wouldn’t push Louis away, either.

 

He was done with that. Done with the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when Louis looked at him like he was betrayed by the distance between them, like being pushed away by his partner was the worst possible thing.

 

He didn’t care if it jeopardized his career anymore. Whatever Louis Tomlinson wanted to give him, he would take. Harry’s feelings were unrequited, he knew that, but he also knew that there was a possibility that could change. He would not fight for Louis, because he wasn’t sure Louis wanted to be fought for, but he would wait, and maybe, someday, Louis would catch up.

 

Harry slowly wriggled out of Louis’s octopus-limbs, pushing a pillow where his body had been and laughing a little when Louis latched onto it, placing a big, wet kiss on it in his sleep.

 

 _God, I am in love with a complete idiot_. He shook his head at himself. He had never told a significant other that he was in love with him/her. It had never slipped out accidentally during sex, or as a joking response to a cute comment. It had always been easy to avoid, because he had never felt it. Now, it was getting to be such a habit to drop the l-bomb in his head, he was sure it would slip out eventually. Hopefully, not before Louis was ready to hear it.

 

He pulled a piece of computer paper out of Louis’s desk and drew a kangaroo on it. It had a speech bubble that said “Just making you a kanga-brew.” The kangaroo may have been holding a cup of tea. Harry felt quite clever, but when he turned around to put it on the pillow next to Louis’s head, his eyes were open and blinking blearily at him.

 

Harry pouted. “Louuuu! You ruined it! Go back to sleep.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes, but wiggled deeper under the covers and yawned, folding his hands under his cheek and closing his eyes.

 

Harry wanted to coo at him. He wasn’t sure it was normal to want to coo at a fully-grown man, but he definitely did. God, he was like a stalker pigeon. Like a stalker Edward Cullen pigeon spy.

 

He carefully placed his gorgeous drawing on the pillow, but Louis’s hand darted out to grab his wrist. “Seriously, Styles? You didn’t see that one coming? You are the worst of spies. The. Worst.”

 

“Heyyyyy! You’re ruining everything.”

 

“Oh come one. It is 6 o’clock in the morning. You already ruined everything when you got out of the bed.”

 

“Oh? How so?”

 

“You broke the cozy-seal!”

 

Harry crossed his arms and tilted his head, looking at his partner fondly. “Is that patented?”

 

“It’s a thing, Harold. You got up and let all the cold air in and then moved around and now it’s not _cozy_ under here anymore.” He grasped at the drawing. “And now you’re making puns? Harold, we have talked about this. What’s wrong with you?”

 

Harry rocked back and forth on his toes and looked up at him through his eyelashes. “I was just being quirky, Lou.”

 

Louis sighed, “Isn’t it a little early to break out the charm, H? I’m not resistant enough at this indecent hour. You’re lovely, the picture’s lovely, the pun is lovely, and it would be _extremely_ lovely if you’d make me tea.”

 

“And eggs on toast?”

 

Louis’s stomach gurgled and he threw Harry a cheesy smile. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and started to leave.

 

“Wait! Don’t leave me here _alone_ ,” Louis moaned dramatically, hand thrown over his forehead.

 

“You can come if you want.”

 

“Yes, but the kitchen is so _far_ and my legs are so _tired_ ,” Louis whined.

 

Harry sighed, ducking his head to hide the a far-too-fond smile. When he looked up, Louis was making grabby hands.

 

“Alright, princess.”

 

Louis scowled, but tightly wrapped his arms and legs around Harry and nuzzled into his neck when Harry bent to pick him up. Harry tried not to think about other things they could be doing in the same position, but with less clothes.

 

“Oof. Maybe you should lay off the eggs benedict, Louis.”

 

“I will do no such thing. Maybe you should lift more weights, Styles.”

 

Harry plopped him down on the counter and put the kettle on, pulling eggs and butter out of the fridge while Louis kicked his legs against the bottom cabinets and hummed Stevie Wonder songs.

 

There was a moment when Harry should have been focused on flipping the eggs, but instead caught himself staring at Louis. His chest was tight and he couldn’t breathe, but it felt like the opposite of a panic attack. The thought that he had at one point imagined that this was just a crush made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. Sentimental stalker Edward Cullen pigeon spy.

 

“Harold, I know I’m no expert in the kitchen, but are eggs supposed to smoke?”

 

Harry swore and pulled the charred eggs from the stove.

 

They ate burnt eggs on toast, but neither of them could stop smiling, and Harry thought he might develop a Pavlovian response to overcooked eggs that made him grin madly whenever he was near them. Or maybe that was just his Pavlovian response to Louis.

 

Sentimental stalker Edward Cullen pigeon spy who moonlighted as one of Pavlov’s dogs.

 

_Ugh. I’m going to need a theme song for that, obviously._

 

#

 

By the time they got to work, Harry was regretting his decision not to pressure Louis.

 

The whole morning had been torture – wonderful, hot-as-hell torture, but torture nonetheless.

 

After breakfast, Louis had made Harry hold his ankles as he did hundreds and hundreds of crunches. With, like, skin and ABS and _sweat_ and Harry was pretty sure the Lord was punishing him for making fun of Louis’s weight earlier. He was less sure he was going to be able to recover from said punishment.

 

And then he wore _the jeans_. They looked soft. Harry wanted to rub his dace on them. Not because Louis was wearing the jeans, mind you. Just because they looked _soft._ Louis wearing them was just an added benefit.

 

They were far too tight to be comfortable – for Harry that was, because when he mentioned in a choked voice that they looked a bit tight, Louis demonstrated that they were fine by doing _squats_ and _lunges_ in them.

 

Harry was pretty sure that he had an orgasm as some point during that display.

 

Not that it mattered, because his need for recovery time was apparently nonexistent when it came to Louis Tomlinson and ten minutes later he was hard enough that he could have rented his dick out to construction companies to drill through concrete. All because Louis decided that Harry’s hair was too messy, scratched his nails over his scalp and then tugged at a handful at his hair. Yep. That was all it took.

 

Louis should have guest starred on _Supernatural_. He was that evil. And that sexy.

 

Luckily, the look on Agent Cowell’s face when he called them to his office was pained enough to calm Harry’s boner down enough that it wasn’t audibly offering to shake hands with Louis’s dick.

 

“Boys, you’re two of our best agents. Disregarding last week’s shit show, you’ve successfully completed everything we’ve asked of you. Which is why we are sending you out in the field for your first major mission.”

 

Harry looked at his superior quizzically. Agent Cowell was frowning, despite the good news.

 

“There has been a kidnapping. Duchess Elizabeth of Hartfordshire. Your mission is to get her back from an isolated, high-security building in Russia.”

 

Harry and Louis had trained for ages – everything from dealing with high-security compounds to speaking and understanding basic Russian to reading people’s faces. Which is why they both knew Agent Cowell wasn’t expecting them to come home alive by the end of his sentence.

 

The Duchess was 8 years old, Harry recalled.

 

He looked at Louis for a long moment, then nodded.

 

 _‘Dead sentimental stalker Edward Cullen pigeon spy who moonlighted as one of Pavlov’s dogs’ has a slightly less happy ring to it_ , he though absently.

 

“We’ll do it,” Louis said.

 

Harry breathed in, breathed out. “Of course we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, mostly fluff, but with a little gut punch at the end! What do you think?


	16. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Be a doll and remember your spandex gear on this one. It looks like you’re going to have to trudge through the sewers and we wouldn’t want your regular gear to stain.”
> 
>  
> 
> “WHY?” His partner’s miserable wail sounded through the headset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys,  
> So this is a day late and it's completely my fault! Cody sent the chapter to me yesterday while I was shopping Fifth Ave with his boyfriend and I forgot to post it...  
> I know. I'm the literal worst.   
> Anyway, this week is going to be crazy busy!! Cody and I both have tons of work due, plus WE ARE GOING TO SEE ED SHEERAN AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN TOMORROW NIGHT!!!! I may be pregnant by the end of the concert, not going to lie. Totally worth it. Alex leaves tomorrow, too, and we're all really sad about it :(. Honestly, I wish you guys could see Alex and Cody together. They are so adorable and in love that it actually hurts me. I think I get more single every time we hang out.   
> As for the updates when it comes to the boy in my class: someone sat between us the other day, SO HE LITERALLY DRAGGED HIS CHAIR OVER AND SCOOCHED IN BETWEEN US. Also, I friended him on Facebook and there are shirtless pictures. Let's just say that the boys of 1D have some abdominal muscle competition and I'm having crazy amounts of increasingly vivid sex dreams. No shame.   
> Sorry about the chapter being late, again!  
> xx Raven and Cody

Louis

 

Louis felt as if someone had just simultaneously drop kicked him in the chest and his dick. If his memory was correct, and it normally was when it came to remembering details that pertained to his work, the duchess was 8 years old. Some deplorable bastard had kidnapped a little girl, an innocent child who was still young enough to dream and to live without inhibition, without worrying that her fantasies might not prove feasible within the confines of reality. Fuck, she probably still enjoyed dressing up as a Disney princess, or maybe even a Disney prince (as someone who had dressed up as a princess in his youth, Louis adamantly supported the defiance of stereotypical gender roles) and visualizing in her inanimate toys the most interesting of friends. How could someone... how could the world... just fucking how?

 

He placed a hand over his chest and inhaled sharply through his nose. This girl could have easily been one of his sisters. Memories began to superimpose themselves upon Agent Cowell and the surrounding training room. In every surface he saw reflected some image of the four little girls he had helped raise when he still lived at home. Daisy and Phoebe jumping around the house in their matching leotards, each eager to be the first to show Louis what she had learned that day at dance. Fizz poking Louis in the stomach and giggling uncontrollable as he squealed and jumped three feet across the room. And Lottie, stroking his hair and holding him as if he were a toddler and telling him that the bullies at school weren’t good enough to realize how special he was. She had always been the one to take care of him when he was too busy taking care of everyone else to realize that he was falling apart at the seams.

 

He could hear their buoyant laughter floating around him and suddenly he was willing to do whatever it took to get that little girl back.

 

“We’ll do it.” Louis heard himself say while trying to peel back the images of his little sisters to find Agent Cowell’s face once more.

 

“Of course we will.” Came Harry’s affirmation.

 

He shot a quick glance over at his partner. The emerald in Harry’s eyes was shimmering with the threat of tears, and his pupils were narrowed to tiny pinpoints of focus and determination. He didn’t bother to ask Harry if he was thinking about Gemma; he already knew that he was.

 

He nodded firmly in Harry’s direction and the next thing he knew they were both sprinting out of the training room.

 

*

 

Louis yanked on his headset as he entered one of offices that was frequently used by agents to gather intel on upcoming missions. This office was small and circular, with only a few computer stations adorning the room’s perimeter. He had been assigned to the one directly opposite the entrance (each agent, upon entering the agency, was assigned his own work station). To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure where Harry’s station was, hence the need for the headset.

 

He strode to the other end of the room and, taking his seat, rapidly typed in his password.

 

“Voice activation required.” proclaimed the deep, computerized tone that reminded Louis of a weightlifter with a smoking addiction.

 

“Agent Louis Tomlinson.” He replied, careful to articulate himself clearly. Things got a bit messy if you didn’t pass the vocal clearance test, or so he had been told anyway.

 

“Lou, you there?” He heard Harry’s familiar voice echo through the headset.

 

“Yep, I’m here Haz. Pulling up the file now.” Louis began typing rapidly and within seconds had pulled up the case file and an additional five tabs.

 

“Elizabeth Koch, age 8.” He read as he began to skim the files. “Daughter of Ivan and Alice Koch. It appears that Alice originated from Poland, but moved to the family’s current residence just outside of Moscow immediately following her marriage to Ivan. The marriage was initially contested by his family, but the resentment seems to have died down over the past two decades or so.”

 

“I’m looking at the abduction information now.” Harry replied. Louis let out a gentle sigh and relaxed into his seat. Prior to all of their awkwardness, Harry and he had never needed to carry out a full conversation with one another to get the job done. All he had to do was tell Harry what he found and his partner would jump right in with the next bit of relevant information. They didn’t need to discuss any of their research; once something was said, it became ingrained in both of their minds. Louis couldn’t express how nice it felt to be working so intimately with Harry again.

 

“It says here that Elizabeth was taken directly from her room sometime between 11pm and 12am last night.”

 

“What’s wrong?” He could tell by Harry’s hesitant tone that he had come across something perplexing.

 

“Her room is on the third floor, Lou. And from these pictures, it doesn’t look like it’s possible for someone to have scaled the outside of the building without bringing some heavy duty equipment.”

 

“Hmm. Can we rule out the possibility of someone breaking into the home on the ground floor and making their way to the duchess’s room from there?”

 

“I think so. I’m looking at the schematics for their security system and the place looks pretty air tight. They have numerous guards operating on schedules that change daily both outside the house and on each floor inside. The doors and windows are bolted shut, and it looks like an alarm sounds within 10 seconds of one being opened unless someone can present a valid fingerprint and enter the 7 digit key code.”

 

“Which would require an intimate knowledge of the house, at least in regards to where the key pads are located.”

 

“Exactly.” Harry let out a low whistle.

 

“Jesus this family has things locked up tight. It’s almost as if they were expecting trouble.” Louis said in a slow voice.

 

“Well, it is Russia. And you know that the country isn’t currently so big on the whole tolerance thing, so maybe someone wasn’t too thrilled about the existence of a half-Polish duchess?”

 

“Maybe, though I’m not sure someone would have gone through all of this trouble if their end goal was to profess their racial hatred. I’m thinking that the kidnappers must want something, something which they can use the duchess to obtain. I’m going to pull up the interviews with her parents.” He sifted rapidly through the files until he found the portion for which he was searching.

 

“Hmm, listen to this, Haz. The family hasn’t received any threats for as long as their daughter has been alive. The weirdest thing that they’ve encountered has been a couple of prank phone calls in which the caller hangs up immediately after one of the Koch’s answers. Though the calls are untraceable, they don’t appear to be fueled by any kind of mal-intent.”

 

“Well, what do the remember from the night of Elizabeth’s abduction?”

 

“Not much. They might not have even realized that she was gone had Alice not heard a slight scuffling coming from her room. When she went to investigate, she found the room completely undisturbed. The only abnormality, aside from her missing daughter of course, was that her window had been thrown open.” Louis frowned.

 

“Apparently she was wearing pink kitty pajama pants when her mother kissed her goodnight.”

 

“Ouch.” He could hear Harry’s sharp inhalation.

 

“Yeah.” Louis’s vision blurred, but he quickly wiped away the tears. “Do we know where she is now?”

 

“Yes.” He could hear Harry tapping at away at his keyboard. “She’s being held in a warehouse just north of Moscow. One of our agents on the ground managed to spot her being toted their by a couple of masked figures. The agent went missing a couple of hours later.”

 

“Well, fuck. We need to hurry on this one, Haz.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m pulling up the schematics for the building and the surrounding area now. Do you know who owns the property?”

 

“Kind of. It’s supposedly used by a private non profit organization for storage purposes. Though as of now the warehouse isn’t supposed to be in use. Shit.”

 

“What?” He asked a bit sharply. It was getting gradually more difficult to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

 

“There are rumors that a local terrorist organization uses the property from time to time. They aren’t Alqueda or anything, but they’ve been known to involve themselves in domestic politics. Briberies, threats, anything to ensure that their illicit activities continue uninhibited.”

 

“What exactly are these illicit activities?”

 

“Unknown.” His parter replied in a tense voice.

 

“Great. So we have almost no idea who we’re up against. Sounds about right.” He began to gnaw at his bottom lip. “Don’t look at the schematics of the area yet, it’ll make you even more optimistic.”

 

He almost smiled at Harry’s exaggerated groan.

 

“Seriously, Haz. It’ll be all but impossible to sneak up on these guys. The warehouse is surrounded on every side by a couple yards of flat, empty land. They’ll see us coming before we even get in the front gate.”

 

“Well bend me over and bugger me sideways. AH.”

 

“I’d love to.” He said before he could stop himself.

 

“Oh, really?” His partner’s chuckle was warmth and light and Louis found it slightly grating.

 

“Shut up. Oh, and Haz?” He made sure to infuse his voice with as much sugary sweetness as he could muster.

 

“Yes... Lou?” Harry’s tone was the epitome of puzzlement.

 

“Be a doll and remember your spandex gear on this one. It looks like you’re going to have to trudge through the sewers and we wouldn’t want your regular gear to stain.”

 

“WHY?” His partner’s miserable wail sounded through the headset.

 

“Karma.” Louis smiled.

 

“Bitch.”

 

“Love ya, babe. Now meet me outside of Agent Cowell’s office. He should have our travel details organized by now.”

 

Louis signed out of his computer and bolted out of the room, unable to get the image of a certain 8 year old duchess out of his head.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....  
> SUPERSPY MONTAGE. How'd you like it? I was reading the whole Disney princess part to Alex in Ted Baker and we were giggling like crazy.


	17. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Looks like I have a new partner in crime,” Harry teased, “and a jealous partner in justice.”  
> Louis swatted at him. “That was awful, Styles. Just awful.”  
> “I know,” Harry said, catching Louis’s hand and holding it to his own heart, batting his eyelashes, “But you loved it.”  
> Louis turned a bit red. “Did not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> Thought we'd give you one more flufftastic chapter before we break you in half and urinate on the remains. So this is that. Please comment and send us love before next chapter, when you decide you hate us!
> 
> Updates in life: THE ED SHEERAN CONCERT WAS BEYOND EPIC. As many of you know, Cody needed some time with ice cream, so he didn't come with, but we had an epic snuggle fest afterwards. I took tons of video, which you probably saw if you follow me on tumblr! We miss Alex a fucking lot, but Cody borrowed my iPhone and skyped with him for like an hour and a half today (I am the best friend, I know), so I'm sure their epic love will prevail (it better, I already booked the venue for the wedding and I can't get my deposit back). My boy is amazing and gorgeous and possibly flirting with me a lot? Like, offering to buy me food, asking me about things I mentioned weeks ago without prompting, and blushing every time we brush each other accidentally in class. Help? That's flirting, right? I don't know. I'm a mess.
> 
> Updates on my feelings about 1D: I'm worried about Harry's poor nips under that tape. That's going to sting coming off. Especially when you know Louis's going to rip it off. WITH HIS TEETH. Also, I am auto-refreshing Story of My Life in five different tabs right now, because I love those idiots lots. Speaking of, ALL THE FAMILY FEELS OH MY GOD IT HURTSSS. I am crying because today was Harry's last concert as a teenager. It's just been a rough time.
> 
> Feel free to send us love notes,
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

“Right,” Harry said, reading the coordinates of their flight and then checking the GPS. “So… there isn’t anything there.”

“Hmmm?” Louis leaned over Harry, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Well, I guess they wouldn’t want us flying out of Heathrow, would they? Too conspicuous. They can’t track down our flight details and meet us there, this way.”

Harry sighed. “So it looks like it’ll be a bit of a road trip. Actually, the liftoff point is pretty close to Doncaster, babe. You know it?”

“No, but it’s close enough that we can spend tonight at Mum’s. You ready to meet the girls?” Louis asked, his eyes crinkling with the force of his grin.

Harry smiled a bit less forcefully, tugging at his hair with his hands the way he always did when he was nervous. Louis’s mother was Louis’s role model and his best friend; he absolutely worshipped her and his sisters. All four of them. Fuck.

“Love,” Louis’s chin rested against his shoulder again and he nuzzled into Harry’s cheek, the rasp of his scruff making a scratching noise. Harry giggled like a fucking teenage girl. “They’re going to a _dore_ you. Ten quid says my mother offers to adopt you within the first ten minutes. Phoebe and Daisy are going to be elbows deep in your curls immediately, and Lottie and Fizz are going to have the biggest crushes on you.”

Harry patted Louis’s cheek. Louis kissed his and Harry felt his skin heat. “You think?”

“Harry, use a quarter of the charm you used on my friends, and they’ll all like you better than me.” Louis pressed one more kiss to his cheek and pulled away. “I’m pretty sure it is impossible to not love you.”

Harry pressed his fingers to the skin Louis had kissed and thought sad thoughts (that one scene in _Oliver and Company_ where Oliver is looking through a window at a display of food and he is _hungry_ ) until he could stop smiling like a dope. He was sure he was at least minorly successful until Louis broke into his thoughts.

“Stop dimpling, doofus, and come help me pack. You know how I can’t fold things like you do.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but hardly stopped dimpling. If Louis only kept him around to fold his joggers and t-shirts, well, at least he kept him around.

#

Louis was a horrible driver. Or, maybe his weaving in and out of traffic, slamming on the brakes and gas, and trash talking would have been appropriate if they were in the middle of a high speed chase. However, singing along to Miley Cyrus (Wrecking Ball was epic and if Harry concentrated, he could almost beat box part of it. Louis told him not to hurt himself.) and eating Doritos, cruising along a highway to visit Louis’s family? Not the time for insane swerving. Louis seemed to disagree.

“Don’t be a baby, Curly,” Louis said, gunning the car forward so quickly that Harry was sure the front wheels came off the ground entirely.

“CARS ARE NOT MEANT TO DO WHEELIES, TOMLINSON,” Harry yelped.

Louis laughed maniacally. Harry sighed. Being in love with a madman like Louis Tomlinson was sometimes difficult.

#

They pulled up to Louis’s mother’s house two hours after leaving London. Which was about an hour less time than it was supposed to take them, but if Louis’s insane driving was good for anything, it was cutting travel time.

Within seconds, their car was swamped by screaming girls, slapping their palms against the windows. A pretty woman with Louis’s blue eyes and a fond expression leaned against the doorframe.

“Monsters!” Louis practically squealed, jumping out of the car. Immediately, he was engulfed by the bodies of four skinny girls. He flopped over and let them tickle him, curled around them and eyes almost closed, smile so big it looked painful. If Harry welled up a little, no one had to know.

Except for Louis’s mother, who was looking at him knowingly. Shit. His fond was showing.

“Hi, Ms. Poulston,” Harry said.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, charmer, you can call me Jay.” She pulled him into a hug that reminded him of his own mother, warm and soft and safe. For the second time in as many minutes, he had to swallow hard to keep from crying. “Oh, love,” Jay said, pulling back, “you’re a right softie, aren’t you?”

Harry laughed and swiped a hand over his eyes. The next thing he knew, he was being tackled by Louis, and his sisters. “See girls,” he heard Louis say, “Told you he would go for a cuddle.”

“Louuuu,” Harry whined, “I thought we discussed that a cuddle is different from an ambush.”

Louis pouted and the girls giggled. “Not if you’re doing it right, Styles.”

Harry wiggled a hand out into the air from where it had been stuck under Louis’s chest. “Harry Styles, nice to meet you.” The girls wiggled their own hands out of the pile and shook Harry’s.

Finally, Jay yelled at them to stop suffocating the guest, and all of them got up to go inside.

“Tea, loves?” Jay yelled into the living room from the kitchen.

“Sure!” Louis yelled back. “Harry takes his with two sugars, the Philistine.”

Harry was sitting on the couch with his feet in Louis’s lap, Daisy and Phoebe braiding pink butterfly beads into his hair. Lottie and Fizzy sat on the floor next to him, asking him questions about all of his tattoos. Louis snickered when Harry pulled his shirt up to show them the tattoos on his stomach and chest and the young girls swooned.

“Girls, girls, keep it in your pants. I told you I had dibs on Harold here, didn’t I?” Louis teased.

Lottie blushed but fired back, “Oh shut up, Lou. We know he’s yours, but you get to see him shirtless endlessly. Let the rest of us enjoy it a little.” Louis buried his head in his hands and groaned.

“How old are you, Lottie?” Harry flirted.

She winked at him, then jerked her chin at Louis. Harry nodded and winked. “Old enough,” she said.

“CHARLOTTE TOMLINSON, YOU ARE FIFTEEN YEARS OLD AND I WILL TELL MOM ON YOU.” Louis clapped his hands over his mouth, startled at his own outburst. Harry and Lottie both laughed uproariously, Fizzy joining in.

“That wasn’t funny,” Louis whined. Harry held a fist out to Lottie, who bumped her own against it.

“Looks like I have a new partner in crime,” Harry teased, “and a jealous partner in justice.”

Louis swatted at him. “That was awful, Styles. Just _awful_.”

“I know,” Harry said, catching Louis’s hand and holding it to his own heart, batting his eyelashes, “But you loved it.”

Louis turned a bit red. “Did not.”

Fizzy sprawled on the floor dramatically. “I’m fucking _thirteen_ and this is too much fluff for me.”

“Language!” Louis, Jay, and Harry chorused.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Lottie moaned. “It’s like having three mothers.”

Harry just smiled and leaned back, letting the twins have access to more of his hair.

“It’s good to have another pair of eyes to look out for these monsters,” Jay said, kissing Louis and Harry on their foreheads and handing them their tea.

Louis mouthed, “See? Adopted,” at Harry and he pressed a kiss to Louis’s knuckles. Funny how he hadn’t even realized he was still holding his hand.

#

Hours later, after a stirring game of Monopoly they had played for as long as they could stand before giving up and Jay’s famous shepherd’s pie, Jay, Louis, and Harry chatted at the dining room table. Lottie and Fizzy were playing Candy Crush, throwing napkins and cake crumbs at each other whenever they got bored, and the twins were watching television.

“So what exactly is going on with the two of you?” Jay asked, interrupting a particularly flirtatious bit of banter that Harry and Louis were engaged in.

Louis started coughing and kicking at his mother in a way he probably thought was stealthy under the table and Harry had never been so glad to hear his phone ring.

“That’s probably Gemma, she told me she would call today. I should grab that,” he said too fast, practically running into the living room where his phone was stashed in a coat pocket.

“Thank god,” he said upon answering. “You just saved me from some serious awkwardness, Gem.”

“Wait, did I save you from confronting your feelings for Louis in some way?” his sister’s familiar voice asked.

“Got it in one,” Harry said, plopping down on the couch. “I’m at his place and his mum is just like ours.”

“So… smart and unwilling to put up with your bullshit?” Gemma asked.

“Exactly. Wow, Gems, it’s like you’re a mind reader.”

“I don’t have to be a superspy like you to know when my little brother is being an idiot.” Harry could practically hear his sister’s eyes rolling in Cheshire.

“Oi!” Harry complained. “Low blow!”

“Right. Wait! So you’re at Louis’s place now?”

“Mmhmmm,” Harry answered absently. Louis was whispering furiously to his mother in the kitchen, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“That just isn’t fair,” Gemma said, “They’re going to get to interrogate you about your intentions with Louis and I can’t interrogate him about his intentions with you.”

“He doesn’t have any intentions,” Harry said glumly.

“God, how are we even related. You are such a dumbass. Hand him the phone.”

“K,” he said, then realized what he was agreeing to. “Wait! No! Gemma, that sounds like the worst idea ever.”

“Oh come off it. Hand that boy the phone.”

“Gemmmm. He knows how I feel, okay? But we don’t talk about it and he doesn’t feel the same way and he is entitled to feel the way he does. If I give him the phone, you can’t jeopardize our friendship or our partnership,” Harry said, stumbling a little over his words.

“Oh, babe,” Gemma breathed, “I knew you liked him a lot, but you really love him, don’t you?”

Harry peeked around the corner. Louis was tickling Fizzy’s sides while Lottie giggled and the twins tried to jump onto his back. “Yeah,” he said.

“I’ll be careful, then.”

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “Louis!” he called, “Gem wants to say ‘hi.’”

Louis stumbled in, the twins holding on to his legs so he had to drag them across the floor. “Save me, Harold! Saveeee meeeee,” he threw himself dramatically onto the couch and made grabby hands for the phone.

Harry picked the twins up, one under each arm, and tossed Louis the phone before making airplane noises and “flying” them around the kitchen.

“Okay, Harry,” Jay said. “Put those two down and come sit down. We need to have a talk.”

Harry approached the table with caution. Jay folded her hands and her fond smile disappeared. “What are your intentions with my son, Harry?”

Harry gulped. “Umm… well. He’s, uh, he’s my best friend. I will always take care of him. I love him.”

Jay’s face softened and Lottie scooched her chair closer, propping her chin in her hands. “But you don’t just love him as a friend, do you Harry?”

Harry looked at them, their encouraging faces and Louis’s eyes. He couldn’t lie to them. What was the point? Louis knew anyway. “No, I’m in love with him,” he confessed, dropping his head onto the table.

“That’s what I thought,” Jay said smugly.

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you,” Harry said. “He’s known for awhile now. Not that it matters.”

Jay reached across the table and held onto his hand. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you, you know.”

“We could talk to him for you, if you want,” Lottie offered.

“Please don’t,” Harry said quickly. “We’re going to need all the focus we have tomorrow. I don’t want him to be distracted by my stupid feelings.”

“Hey, what you feel for Louis is not stupid,” Jay said. “It’ll all work out, believe me. Just take care of my son tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course,” Harry promised.

Louis came in, and Jay pulled away abruptly and Lottie began to text, looking bored.

Louis looked at both of them suspiciously, then shrugged and handed Harry the phone.

“Hey Gem,” Harry said, going back into the living room.

“Harrryyyyyyy,” she wailed.

“Whoa, what? What’s wrong, Gemma? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Harry, you complete nincompoop, I thought you said your feelings were one-sided?” Gemma sobbed.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, they are,” Harry said, confused.

“That boy is so in love with you, H. Like, would die for you, worships the ground you walk on, wants to have your babies _in love with you_ ,” Gemma yelled.

“Did he say that?” Harry asked, his heart beating double time.

“Well… not exactly. But it’s obvious to anyone with ears, Harry. Come _on_ have I taught you nothing?”

Harry looked into the dining room. Louis was staring at him, a dreamy expression on his face. When they made eye contact, Louis started and blushed, ducking his head. Jay looked at Harry pointedly.

“Maybe…” Harry trailed off. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, H. _Jesus_.”

Harry knew that he couldn’t tell Louis before the mission. He had been right to tell Jay that it was a bad idea. But maybe after, they should finally talk about it. Maybe there had been some mixed signals. Either way, he wanted to hear Louis say that he didn’t have feelings for him before he even began to try to move on.

They talked for a few more minutes before Harry’s mother’s voice called to Gemma in the background. “It’s time for me to go. Make sure you call Mom later, okay kid brother?”

Harry confirmed that he would, then began to tear up, realizing that this would be the last time he would talk to his sister before the mission.

“Harry,” Gemma broke into his thoughts, “I want you to promise me that you’re going to come home safe.”

He could hear the tears in her voice. “Gem, you know I can’t.”

“Promise me,” she demanded.

Harry had never been able to deny his sister anything. “I promise.”

They hung up, and Harry was left staring at his phone and wiping his eyes.

“H?” Louis padded into the room, immediately wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle. Harry contorted until he could press his nose to Louis’s neck. “We’re going to be okay, Harry. We’re the best, you know that.”

Harry nodded, unable to speak. He had always known Louis was the only person who could save him. In this case, he wished it was maybe a little less literal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....


	18. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry let out a low growl. “But what if something happens? Are you telling me not to come back for you, Lou? Because I don’t know…”
> 
> Louis nipped at Harry’s ear, stopping the other boy mid-sentence. “Don’t. If something happens, no, you can’t come back for me. You know you can’t. But until something does happen, have a little faith. I can take care of myself, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello peons, followers, stalkers at large,  
> So, things.  
> 1) This chapter is going to hurt.  
> 2) Next chapter will hurt more.  
> 3) SORRY  
> It was Alex's birthday this week! Send all your love in the direction of Scotland. Meanwhile, Cody and I snuggled a lot, my family is shit again, and the boy I like is the opposite of shit because he literally looked me in the face, full fond, and said the words "No, I like it when you rant, please continue." And that is love, boys and girls, that is love. A very lonely, not-getting-laid kind of love, but love nonetheless. Other things that have happened: lots of homework, I'm finally working on my novel again, and more dance parties to Little Mix's new album than anyone in our neighborhood needed to see (as if I give a shit). Also, I made pineapple angel food cake and Cody and my roommate, Zoe, made chocolate trifle. Don't ask me how, but I lost weight.  
> And that's what you missed on Glee. Now onto our boys and their stupid heroics,  
> xx Raven and Cody

Louis

 

Louis clawed at his armrests as the wheels of the miniscule plane made contact with the ground. Though he normally wasn’t very fond of flying (because FUCKING HEIGHTS), the terror that seized ahold of him now had nothing to do with their plane’s less than graceful landing. He looked over at Harry, who was gazing distractedly out of the window beside him, and swallowed.

 

While they were in the air, Louis had found himself thinking again and again that he never wanted to land. Harry, knowing as he always did when Louis was on the brink of a panic attack, had pointed out the thin webbing of clouds that separated their plane from the seemingly infinite miles of space between them and the ground.

 

“Look, Lou. It’s one big net! So even if something goes wrong and we start to fall… it’ll catch us. Like the net that catches tightrope walkers in the circus.” One waggle of Harry’s eyebrows and Louis had been sold. He had spent the rest of the ride absentmindedly tracing Harry’s forearm with his fingers (and didn’t question when Harry leaned into his touch, convinced his partner was just experiencing the pre-mission jitters) and pointing out the faces of circus animals that were woven into the intricate latticework of their safety net.

 

Louis sighed. In the air, it was almost as if they had escaped to an entirely different world. A world without kidnapped duchesses and vindictive terrorist organizations that would stop at nothing to maintain their hold over an innocent little girl, even if it meant killing the one person who was willing to risk his life to save her. _Harry._

 

He closed his eyes and willed down the waves of terror that were threatening to overcome him. In this world he would be the only safety net that Harry had. His partner needed him, and he would be damned if he was going to let his fear prevent him from saving the one person he cared about most. It wasn’t an option.

 

“Ready, Lou?” The quivering in Harry’s voice was barely noticeable, but it was enough.

  
Louis nodded. “We can do this, Haz.” His own voice didn’t shake in the slightest.

 

*

 

They hit the ground running. Normally Louis opted for a more stealthy approach, but it was already well past dark and the chances of their being spotted in such a remote town were next to nothing. Plus, Louis wasn’t sure he could slow himself down if he wanted. Somewhere nearby a little girl, clad in animal print pajamas, was being held against her will. A little girl who happened to be the same age as Fizz. Violent images of Fizz, _his_ Fizz, being ushered out of his mother’s house in the middle of the night by unrecognizable masked forms assaulted his imagination. A hot, piercing rage, intermingled with a frantic terror began to build in his gut at the same time that the bitter taste of bile filled his mouth. Who the _fuck_ could do such a thing?

 

Without entirely realizing it, he reached out and intertwined his left hand with Harry’s. He could tell from the frantic throbbing of Harry’s pulse that he wasn’t the only one who was worried.

 

Having already memorized the map of the city, the two of them silently navigated their way through unfamiliar street after unfamiliar street. It was so dark that Louis could only discern the vague outlines of the buildings they were passing; some thin and tall (though by tall he meant perhaps two stories), most short and box-shaped (maybe it was a trick of the shadows, but it seemed as if the roofs of the majority of the buildings they passed sunk downwards in the middle). Everywhere they ran, the smell of wet grass mixed with the pungent odor of rotting wood permeated the cool air.

 

“How close?” Harry’s hoarse voice barely reached his ears.

 

Louis consulted his mental map. “About five minutes.” Just enough time to go over the logistics of the mission. Again.

 

They would arrive at the unused office building that would serve as his makeshift command center in about five minutes. Upon arriving, Harry would have ten minutes to prep and then he would have to leave for the sewers. The entry point, if Louis remembered correctly, was about five blocks from the office building, next to a couple of dilapidated homes that the agency was certain were no longer in use. Harry would make his way through the sewers for seven blocks and arrive at his destination. After that, it would be up to Harry to find a way to penetrate the warehouse and discover where the duchess was being kept. Without being detected by one of an unknown number of terrorist operatives.

 

Louis squeezed the other boy’s hand. Once Harry was inside, there was only so much he would be able to do to help. He would have eyes on the outside, and would be able to monitor all computer and cellular activity within the warehouse, but the agency hadn’t been able to plant cameras inside the building. Louis would have to rely on the rudimentary blueprint they had obtained for the warehouse to help Harry organize his search for the duchess. In essence, it was a suicide mission.

 

*

 

They arrived at the unused office building exactly on schedule.

 

“Should we head inside?” Harry asked, not seeming at all tired from their run.

 

“N-no!” Louis gasped, convinced that his indomitable will power was the only thing keeping his lungs from exploding into a billion tiny fragments. Apparently Harry had been keeping to their cardio regiment much better than he had. Show off.

 

Okay, so maybe he was taking a little extra time to gather himself to keep Harry from leaving. Maybe.

 

“I haven’t been able to sweep the office building for bugs as of yet. I know that the agency said it was clear, but I don’t want to take any chances with a mission as sensitive as this. It’s probably better that you prep out here so that we don’t accidentally reveal any details that could be used against us.”

 

“Okay, but…” Louis pressed a finger to Harry’s lips to stop him from speaking and gestured to the office building. Harry raised an eyebrow, but nodded in understanding. Louis wasn’t only worried about bugs.

 

Even though the agency took painstaking care in planning out the details of its missions, there was always the possibility that some of those details would leak. He knew that Harry thought he was paranoid for worrying, but with such a high stakes mission he couldn’t help himself. Grabbing the other boy by his annoyingly broad shoulders, he pulled Harry into a tight hug.

 

“I’m going to scout out the building for unwanted presences once you leave. I know you normally like to do that with me, but you can’t on this one Haz. Our priority has to be on saving this little girl. Which means that if there are people inside waiting for me… I’ll have to take them out myself. Or… or not. Regardless, your focus has to be on getting to the sewers unscathed.” He whispered, his lips brushing gently against Harry’s earlobe.

 

Harry let out a low growl. “But what if something happens? Are you telling me not to come back for you, Lou? Because I don’t know…”

 

Louis nipped at Harry’s ear, stopping the other boy mid-sentence. “Don’t. If something happens, no, you can’t come back for me. You know you can’t. But until something does happen, have a little faith. I can take care of myself, you know.”

 

“I don’t like it.” Harry pulled Louis tighter against him as he whispered angrily. “Not. One. Bit.”

 

It was all Louis could do to suppress his shiver. “You don’t have to like it. But you do have to trust me. Can you do that, Haz?”

 

“Always.” Louis felt the kiss that Harry planted on his forehead all the way in his toes.

 

“Besides,” he started, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “ _You’re_ the one who is running off on a suicide mission. In comparison, my problems are basically nonexistent.”

 

“Humph.” Harry snorted. “I still don’t like it.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you ready for the sewers, shall we?”

 

*

 

Harry had his knife and a small, nondescript handgun hidden in his wetsuit (though God be damned if Louis could figure out where) in almost no time flat. Placing his bag on the ground, he stalked over to Louis and lifted him into a gigantic bear hug.

 

Unable to help himself, Louis wrapped his legs around the larger boy’s waist and rested his head in the crook of his shoulder.

 

“Be safe, Louis. Or. Else.” Harry whispered passionately.

 

This time he did shiver. “You too. Don’t do anything reckless. I know it’s difficult for you, but… please just be safe.” Louis knew he sounded desperate, that his confident demeanor was crumbling, but he didn’t care.

 

“I promise.” Harry’s voice sounded equally wrecked.

 

Harry placed Louis slowly back on the ground and checked his watch. “I should probably head out…”

 

He dropped his head. “Yeah, you probably should.”

 

“I’ll be back before you know it, Lou. Same as always.”

 

“Yeah.” Not sure what else he could say, Louis stretched up onto his tiptoes and kissed Harry softly on the cheek. Even though it was still dark, he could have sworn that Harry was blushing.

 

“I’ll see you soon, Lou.” Harry whispered. He stared at Louis for another long moment, and then turned on his heel and sprinted into the darkness.

 

“I love you, Harry Styles.” Louis whispered after him, positive that the other boy was already too far gone to hear him.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit shit shit we're awful don't kill us we fucked up


	19. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis started to whimper and Harry realized that he was crying. “Louis, love, our job is to play the hero and save people, you know that. It’ll be fine.”  
> “Harry, I don’t want to listen to you die,” Louis said, his voice tight, like he was having trouble breathing.  
> “Deep breaths, Lou, it could all be fine.”  
> “It won’t, Harry. You and I both know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> So, before you guys literally hate us, here's the gossip for the week. Alex thinks you're all adorable, and thanks you for the birthday wishes. Cody turned in a fifteen page paper at midnight last night and he has another one due next Saturday at the same time, so he's afraid he won't be able to turn the next chapter in on time. After the ending of this one, though, I'm afraid you will murder us if the next one is even a day late. Thoughts? My family's still having a rough time, but I'm excited to see some of them for Thanksgiving next week, including my sassy 10-year-old cousin who thinks my 1D obsession is hilarious and my jock-stud-muffin of a little bro who is apparently being literally followed by groupies (with signs) on campus. Poor kid. As for my maybe could be almost boy, he is lovely as usual. We're on the staff of a literary magazine together (shameless plug, we're running an indiegogo campaign for charity here: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/cura-for-the-doe-fund if you want to contribute!). Fun fact, we were reading submissions out loud in class on Friday. Do you know what that means? It means listening to the guy I have a crush on read soulful love poetry in his gorgeous deep voice. Apparently, it worked for him too because he told the class that his favorite poem was the one I read, but that he was biased because he thinks I have a good voice for reading poetry. Later on, he was teasing me about a mistake I made and I told him to shut the fuck up and one of my friends, Kady, was like "whoa guys, it's getting heated over there." and some kid WHO NEVER SPEAKS just goes "Please, it's always been heated between those two." And I died a million deaths. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter, especially the end, was hard to write. I am so, so sorry.
> 
> We love you! Have a great week
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

“,” Harry just caught the end of a transmission from Louis’s microphone in his inner ear, crackling to life and fading.

 

“Sorry, babe. Didn’t catch that.” He could feel Louis running in the opposite direction from him like a tugging. He didn’t like it, no matter how adept Louis was at saving himself.

 

“It was n-nothing,” Louis stammered, and Harry grinned to himself. He had a pretty good idea of what Louis had said. The look in his blue eyes was telling, more so than he would have expected from the smaller man, known for brushing his feelings away with a joke. Harry wondered how long he had been looking at him like _that_ before he had started noticing.

 

Jogging to a large, squat, concrete building, which seemed to stare back at him menacingly, Harry found himself hoping that he would have the chance to notice. _Get a grip, Styles. No need to match morbid thinking with your morbid tone._

 

“Alright, Sugartits, I’m in. Our luck seems good – there wasn’t anyone waiting for me.”

 

Harry sighed in relief, glad that, if nothing else, Louis was safe. For now. _And there goes the morbid tone again_. “Sugartits, Lou? Really? Don’t objectify Chandler, Monica, Rachel, and Ross like that.”

 

It took Louis a minute. “ _Harold_ , for the love of all that is holy, did you really name your four mutant nipples after characters from _Friends_?”

 

Harry scoffed. “I only have two mutant nipples, love. The others are perfectly normal.”

 

“Yes, yes, kitten, we all know how flustered you get over your udders. Put them away now so we can do our job, yes?”

 

Harry giggled to himself, suddenly feeling like this was just another routine mini mission. God, if he got out of here, he was going to marry that boy. “Right, Ladyfingers, let’s get down to business to defeat…” he paused.

 

“The hunssss,” Louis helpfully filled in. “You have approached from the East, yes?”

 

Harry nodded, then remembered that Louis didn’t have his customary camera. “Roger.”

 

“Gregory,” Louis said absent-mindedly. “That means you’re going to see a sewage hatch about ten paces to the right of the wall you should be facing.”

 

“Doe-eyesss,” Harry whined, “We’ve gone over this. You have to specify if by “paces” you mean my paces or yours. Because…”

 

“Yes, because I am less freakishly giant, we know, dickface,” Louis snapped. “They’re your paces, of course.”

 

“Dickface isn’t a term of endearment, darling,” Harry said sweetly.

 

“Oh, fuck me.”

 

“After the mission, love.” Harry smiled big, since there were no cameras and therefore no one could shame him when he heard Louis’s gasp. They flirted all the time, of course, but never that blatantly. “You okay there?”

 

Harry could _hear_ Louis blushing. “Fine!” he chirped, but his tone was strangled.

 

“Yes, gorgeous, you are.”

 

“Oh, put up or shut up,” Louis blurted.

 

It was Harry’s turn to choke a bit. He cleared his throat twice, but his voice still seemed to come out as if he had been gargling gravel. “Put up, definitely put up.”

 

Silence crackled through his earpiece until Louis said, voice still a little strained, “Um… so do you see the hatch?”

 

A round of dull metal caught his eye. “Roger.”

 

“Philip,” Louis countered as Harry pulled a crowbar from his rucksack and pried it open.

 

“Ugh. It smells in here,” Harry whined, lowering himself into the sludge at the bottom of the tunnel.

 

“Well, yes, it is raw sewage, lovely, but it does give you an excuse to wear all kinds of spandex, which lord knows you love.”

 

“Only because I catch you staring at my abs every time I wear it,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

 

“Well. They are quite eye-catching,” Louis said, his voice prim and proper. “Now be a dear and take thirty of _your_ paces to your left. It will be the second ladder to the right.”

 

“As you wish, my love,” Harry said

 

“Alright, charmer,” Louis said after a few seconds, “Are you out of there yet?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Harry hummed as he rapidly took two guards out, catching them and lowering them carefully to the ground so that they would make much noise. “Had company for a minute, but they’re out for the count now.”

 

“My hero,” Louis said drily, “Now stop bragging and look for a door marked stairs. It should be a few feet to your right.”

 

“Got it, sweetcheeks,” Harry said zeroing in on the door.

 

“There’s a camera there,” Louis warned.

 

Harry waited until it rotated away from him to open the door, hitting it with a stun gun.

 

“Stun gun?” Louis asked

 

“The only thing more stunning than you,” Harry confirmed.

 

“Shit, Styles, that was awful,” Louis groaned.

 

“Oh shush, I can still hear you blushing, Tommo,” Harry said.

 

“You can’t hear people blushing, love. That isn’t a thing,” Louis said.

 

“I have a sixth sense when it comes to you, sweetums,” Harry said.

 

“Can you hear that I’m rolling my eyes right now?” Louis said.

 

“I can, actually,” Harry said, “And now you’re biting your lip.”

 

“Wait, I – I was, actually. How did you know that?”

 

“I know you,” Harry said simply.

 

“Right, right. Are you on the fourth floor yet?”

 

“Almost… and now I am. Why do they always keep the damsel in distress in the highest room of the tallest tower?” Harry asked.

 

“Probably to keep her away from errant knights who think it’s okay to call a woman a damsel in distress, Harold,” Louis said, firmly.

 

“Right on,” Harry said, lifting a fist into the air before lowering it in embarrassment once he realized no one would see it.

 

“You did the fist thing, didn’t you?” Louis deadpanned.

 

“Absolutely not,” Harry lied.

 

“Alright. She should be the fourth room on the right, but expect her to be heavily guarded. Be safe, love.”

 

“Of course, angelface,” Harry grinned before walking calmly towards the five guards outside the door.

 

He quickly incapacitated them before walking into the room.”Elizabeth?” he called, quietly.

 

She was under the bed, shaking. “Shhhh, shh,” she whispered. “They’ll come back.”

 

“Sweetie, it’s okay. My name’s Harry, I’m from England, and I’m here to take you to your mum and dad, okay?”

 

She reached out a hand and he pulled her out. Her nightgown was covered in dust and her brown curls were messy, her wrist had a bruise on it, imprinted in the shape of four fingers and a thumb, but she was alright.

 

“We have her, Lou. She’s okay.”

 

Louis sighed a breath of relief and Harry could hear him typing out a quick message to send to HQ so they could alert the girl’s family.

 

“Okay, love. Just reverse the way you came in and you should get out just fine,” Louis said.

 

“And then we can… celebrate?” Harry said lasciviously. He heard Louis choke again.

 

“There are _children_ with you, Harold. _Really,_ ” but he was laughing, relieved.

 

“Only one, Louis. Child,” Harry corrected smugly.

 

“Excuse you, mister,” Elizabeth said. “I am ten years old.”

 

“Indeed you are,” Harry said solemnly. “Can you run, or would you like to ride on my back?

 

Elizabeth clambered onto Harry’s back and he took off past the guards and down the stairs to the entrance to the sewers when he heard it.

 

Screaming. Someone was screaming for help. Actually, it sounded like many more than one. It sounded like dozens.

 

“Lou,” Harry said. His voice broke. “Lou, do you hear that?”

 

“Don’t even think about it, Harry. It’s almost absolutely a trap. No one else has gone missing.”

A woman wailed the word “please,” and Harry knew he didn’t have a choice. He brought Elizabeth through the sewers and told her to climb the ladder.

 

“Lou, you’re going to have to pick Elizabeth up.”

 

“Harry, no. You aren’t doing this. It’s a trap, you know it’s a trap. Why are you doing this?”

 

“Because what if it isn’t, Louis? What if some sociopath is torturing people? I’m not going to leave them there.”

 

“Harry, please,” Louis sounded desperate now, and Harry felt his stomach sink. “This was already a suicide mission. We’ve beat the odds, it’s a miracle that you’re safe. Don’t play hero this time.”

 

Harry helped Elizabeth crawl out of the grate. “Please just come get her, Louis.”

 

Louis started to whimper and Harry realized that he was crying. “Louis, love, our job is to play the hero and save people, you know that. It’ll be fine.”

 

“Harry, I don’t want to listen to you die,” Louis said, his voice tight, like he was having trouble breathing.

 

“Deep breaths, Lou, it could all be fine.”

 

“It won’t, Harry. You and I both know that.”

 

“Fine,” Harry said, ducking back into the sewer and climbing into the hallway. The voices seemed to be louder on the left, so he followed down an empty corridor, spooky and dimly lit. “Then it’s time.”

 

“Time for what, H?” Louis said, his voice cracked and broken.

 

“Time for me to give the speech,” Harry said.

 

“The speech?”

 

Harry kept jogging, looking into rooms. It was strange that he hadn’t seen anyone. It was making him nervous. “Yes, Lou, the speech. Shut up and let me give it. I’ve been working on it since the first day of training.”

 

Louis obediently went quiet. “Louis, you are the best lay I’ve ever had.”

 

Louis choked out a laugh.

 

“You’re also my best friend. There’s no one I would rather watch Disney movies with, or cuddle with on the couch. There is no one I would rather cook for. I well up every time I imagine you looking at anyone else the way you look at me, I don’t mind doing your laundry and the dishes and dealing with your smelly feet. I love it when you wear my clothes, I love waking up to your cold nose in my ear. I want to get a cat with you and name it Lucifer and teach it to play pranks on Zayn and Liam and Niall. I love your cheekbones and your vampire smile and your eyes and how much you love your sisters and how soft you look when you are sleepy or cold.”

 

The next room he looked into had a man, a tape recorder, and what looked like thirty guards.

Boots clomped on the concrete floor on either side.

 

“Pausing the speech. You still there, Lou?”

 

“Yeah, H,” Louis sniffled. “I’m still here.”

 

“Well, it looks like you were right. Trap,” Harry said shortly, grasping the doorknob as the boots clomped closer.

 

“Do they have anyone from our side?”

 

“No. No hostages,” Harry said.

 

“Just you, then,” Louis choked out.

 

 “Yep, Lou. Just me.”

 

He rolled his shoulders back and stepped in. The man pressed pause on the tape recorder, and for a moment there was an eerie silence. It was time.

 

“Louis?”

 

“Yes, Harry?”

 

“I’m so in love with you,” Harry said, smiling. Then he ripped the ear piece out and stomped it into tiny pieces.

 

A wall of guards approached.

 

He was still smiling when the first punch landed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO FUCKING SORRY


	20. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything was Harry, precisely because nothing was or would ever be Harry again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guysss!!
> 
> I know it's been FOREVER. We're super late. But the next chapter will be posted on our regular Sunday.
> 
> Actually, I'll shut up, First go read the chapter and then come back up here and read my rant about our lives. But for real. Go read it because it is awesome and you've already waited too long.
> 
> ...
> 
> Done? Okay, I expect some reviews that will make us crack up. 
> 
> Back to our lives. I know some of you aren't American, and therefore do not understand our gluttonous tradition -- Thanksgiving. Yes, yes, we give thanks. But FOOD, man. _Food_. So that's what we're up to now. Cody and I are separated, and it feels like heartache. Speaking of painful separations, one's about to end! Alex is coming back again on December 13th, so expect tales of joy and lurve. As for me, I don't even know if Jake is real anymore because OH MY GOD. Like, at one point I had to give a presentation and he lost his shit at one of my stupid jokes and did ac full-on Harry Styles hands clapped over his mouth, adorable, embarrassed face, so I completely lost my train of thought and just kind of grinned dopily back. And then I posted an article on Neville Longbottom on facebook because he thinks it's funny that I'm in love with him and he made some smartass comment, so I responded with the fact that his attractiveness is mostly based on his sweaters. So the next day, he wore a sweater to class and asked me very pointedly if I liked it.
> 
> HELP.
> 
> Speaking of Harry Styles, by the way, can we talk about how every performance of Midnight Memories, I think he's going to burn my clothes off my body with that _scream_????
> 
> #thingsthatshouldn'tbelegal
> 
> Love you all,
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

Louis

“I…” The jarring sound of unrestrained static made Louis jump. He furrowed his eyebrows, and for a minute couldn’t register that he had been prevented from telling Harry he loved him too because the other boy’s headset had gone offline.

 

“H-harry! Are you still there!?” He knew his voice was starting to sound shrill, but he couldn’t stymie the flood of panic that was coursing through is veins. His pleading question was met by unsympathetic static.

 

“HARRY! PLEASE HARRY ANSWER THE DAMN HEADSET!” Louis knew he shouldn’t be screaming, knew that if the kidnappers had set up a trap for Harry that they probably knew he was coming. Hell, they probably knew that they were both coming. But he didn’t care, couldn’t care. His face was cold, his knees were cold, and God be damned if he could remember when he had fallen sobbing to the dust-ridden cement floor.

 

He felt numb, numb and absolutely freezing. His mind couldn't wrap itself around a world without Harry, a future without pronounced dimples and lazy curls and a stupid boy dancing to stupid pop songs in _their_ kitchen while _their_ children laughed themselves into a blissful stupor on the floor. He wanted everything with Harry Styles, and as his visions of everything unrelentingly faded into empty nothings, they took all of Louis's warmth with them.

 

 _What am I supposed to do?_ Louis curled into a ball, wrapping himself in the smell of damp wood and dirty cobwebs, willing his consciousness away. Somewhere deep inside he knew that he couldn't just meld into his surroundings, but he needed to try. Because a life without Harry Styles was a life without purpose, a life without love and friendship and everything which Louis had always wanted for himself, but never thought he'd find. And now he was gone. Louis folded deeper into himself, unable to control the violent convulsions that were shaking his tiny frame. Harry Styles was gone.

 

 _Get the duchess, Lou_. He jerked at the thought, because when had the voice in his head started to sound exactly like Harry? When had his partner, the love of his fucking life, become so crucial to Louis's existence that he became Louis's voice of reason, his guiding force? Eyes burning, he pushed himself to his feet. He would have time to think everything through later; right now there was a frightened little girl dredging through the sewers who needed his help.

 

*

 

"Well, it’s about time," declared the miniscule duchess as she hopped out of the sewer, the fringes of her pajamas coated in a thin layer of sludge. She must have been aware that she smelled like a mixture of sweat and, well, sewer, but she looked up at Louis through her nose with an imperial air nonetheless.

 

"I must have been waiting for a whole two minutes." The frail girl strode over to Louis, her slightly frantic pace the only indicator that she realized she was still in danger, and tapped him on the knee.

 

"Bend down if you will. Unfortunately I'm not the best runner and will require assistance." Louis raised his eyebrows, the girl's easy charm almost enough to elicit a small grin. Almost.

 

"Whatever you say, princess." He replied softly before dropping into a squatting position.

 

"Actually, it's duchess. Though I do plan to marry a Disney prince one day, probably Philip. Sleeping Beauty sleeps too much, I'm sure he'd like me better." She said matter-of-factly, her tone broking no argument.

 

Louis did chuckle then. "Oh, I have no doubt, _duchess_. Any prince would be lucky to have you as his princess." He could feel her nod in approval as she climbed onto his back.

 

After settling into position, she promptly tapped Louis on the back. "Mister?"

 

"My name's Louis." He said, infusing as much warmth into his voice as he was capable. "You can call me Louis."

 

"Okay, Louis." She said, her voice shaking slightly. "Why aren't you running?"

 

Right. The poor girl had just been kidnapped and probably wasn't eager to wait around for her captors to come find her. He straightened up, the weight of the duchess almost unnoticeable, and took off at a sprint down the nearest alleyway.

 

The closer they got to the rendezvous point, the more Louis felt like he was being torn in two. He knew that he had to return the duchess to the awaiting jet, that much was clear. But he also knew that the agency would be expecting him to board with her, to leave Russia without so much as blinking an eye. It was too dangerous for him to remain here, especially if Harry's arrival had indeed been expected.

 

Louis tried to inwardly prepare himself to leave, but he kept picturing that foul, dank building in which he had last heard Harry's voice. To leave would mean to give up all hope, to make Harry's death a concrete reality as opposed to a likely possibility. He wasn't sure that he was physically able to give up that hope.

 

The pilot already had the door to the jet open when they arrived.

 

"Cowell says take off is in five. You two had better get settled in quick." He barked, only sparing them a cursory glance before boarding the jet and preparing it for takeoff.

 

Louis carefully pulled the duchess down from his shoulders and placed her on the ground.

 

"I need a favor from you..." He started, crouching down to face her.

 

The duchess immediately walked over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

 

"You loved him." She said, and it didn't need to be said to which "he" she was referring.

 

"I did." He could feel the color draining from his face, but didn't break the duchess's gaze.

 

"Then go. I'll tell the loud man in the funny black clothes that you went back for him."

 

Louis just stared, almost entirely certain that his chin must be taking an incredibly undignified rest on the ground.

 

The duchess rolled her eyes and placed her right hand purposefully on her hip. "I said _go_."

 

He nodded and pulled her into an enormous hug (which she surprisingly returned in full force) before turning on his heel and sprinting back towards his makeshift headquarters.

 

*

 

"TOMLINSON! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?" Agent Cowell's enraged voice screamed through his headset. It may or may not have been the fifth time he had asked Louis that same question.

 

"I'm heading back to mission headquarters, sir." He panted.

 

"That building is no longer your headquarters, Tomlinson. The duchess has been retrieved. The mission is over. You are to return to the jet, immediately." Cowell's voice had that strange, “I'm frustrated that I cannot eviscerate people with my words,” tone to it that normally meant trouble.

 

"I can't do that, sir." To be fair, he really wasn't sure that he could. He kept picturing his last moments with Harry. The lingering hugs, the whispered I love yous, and they playful banter that he realized wasn't a joke at all only after it was too late. He needed to go back to that building. To wrap himself in the essence which Harry had instilled in that vast, inanimate space. To be where Harry had been because it was the closest he would come to touching the other boy ever again.

 

"Louis..." Cowell pleaded, his voice softer than Louis had ever heard it, "you need to come home. Styles is gone. You staying there won't bring him back."

 

"I have to try." His voice was hoarse, tears streaming rapidly down his face. "I _need_ to try. I can’t just leave him."

 

Cowell sighed. "You aren't leaving him, Louis. He's already gone. And if you stay there we can no longer offer you the agency's protection."

 

"I don't care!" Louis screamed. "None of it matters anymore, anyway! I'm staying here. Take the duchess and go."

 

*

 

Louis continued to ignore the agency's calls for two days. He slept in the back corner of a room on the second floor, a portion of the building which was far enough from any windows that it lay perpetually in shadow. Dust was collecting in his hair, and he was pretty sure that his damp, wrinkled clothes were starting to grow mold. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten anything, but that was mostly by choice. His appetite had been all but nonexistent. Louis could almost hear Harry's laughter now, resonating throughout the walls as if their last conversation had been somehow trapped within the small space, a testimony to all that was Louis and Harry's relationship. He cried often or, rather, he thought he cried often. It had become hard to differentiate between the times when was sobbing and the times when he was staring off into space, trying to find Harry in the faded plaster and the long cracks that adorned the concrete floor. In all honesty, he wasn't sure that Louis existed anymore. His entire consciousness was vague, consisting only of abstract qualities that belonged to his Harry. His hair, his soft skin, his raspy voice and easy smile. Everything was Harry, precisely because nothing was or would ever be Harry again.

 

When his headset buzzed for the millionth time, he was fully ready to smash it after saying a last goodbye to Cowell.

 

"Lou... is that you?" The voice that sounded over the speakers was familiar, though seemed ten times older than when he had last heard it.

 

"L-Liam?" Louis almost couldn't remember the other boy's name.

 

"Oh, thank God." This time there was a trio of voices, exhaling their relief in unison.

 

"Please come home." There was panic in Zayn's voice, his normally indifferent tone strained by the threat of tears.

 

"Yeah, mate. We need you." Niall's normally thick accent was rendered thicker by his concern.

 

"You guys... I can't. Okay? I need to stay here. To wait for him. You know he's coming back, he always comes back." He knew he was pleading more with himself than with them, but he couldn't leave.

 

"Louis..." Liam started, and Louis wanted to turn off the headset right there because Liam always made him change his mind, always said the exact thing he needed to hear and Louis was not ready to leave just yet. "We can't lose another friend."

 

And there it was. He felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. Of course his friends were grieving too; of course he was being selfish for putting himself in danger even though they had already lost one best friend.

 

"But..."

 

"Louis, please. We need you." Liam sounded broken, completely and utterly worn down. Louis knew he had to go back.

 

"Tell Cowell I'll be at the rendezvous point in twenty. I love you guys." He hung up the headset, knowing that if he didn't start moving right now he might never decide to go back.

 

The sound of someone knocking at the building's front door had Louis sprinting for the stairs. _Fuckfuckfuck_.

 

This was it. They had finally found him. Only someone who was completely sure of themselves would come knocking at the front fucking door. It probably meant that whoever it was had brought plenty of back up, or was at least heavily armed. Louis ran over the logistics in his head and he knew that his best shot was to get out of that door unscathed. He crept down the stairs, pulling a gun out of his thigh holster and inched towards the door. Taking care not to make even the minutest of sounds, he crept to wall directly beside the door and waited. Surprise would be his only advantage.

 

A large, shadowy figure slowly made its way through the door. Louis didn't hesitate. He grabbed the form and pulled it to the ground, shutting and latching the thick door behind him in the process. Though his odds weren't good, he knew that he'd have time to dispatch this guard and reposition himself somewhere else in the building before the back-up smashed their way inside. He pulled his gun and leveled it at the head of the struggling mass pinned beneath him.

 

The mass was grinning back at him, his two too-green eyes sparkling up at him amidst an almost entirely black and blue face. Louis choked, and it was all he could do not to drop his gun. It didn't take him long to recover, and soon he was leveling the gun against the now confused looking figure's face.

 

"You fucking _knocked?_ You just waltz in here after three days and _knock_? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" Louis howled.

 

"Oh, come on Lou. Did you honestly think I would let you get out of responding to the last thing I said to you?" Louis tried to stay angry, he really did. But his anger was dissipating faster than it had arisen, a warm sensation stretching its way throughout his body.

 

"Of course I'm in love with you. You're fucking James Bond, aren't you?" His voice was soft, and betrayed all the love he felt for this stupid, cocky boy. It was wonderful.

 

"Well, you are definitely sexy enough to be my Bond girl." Harry drawled.

 

Louis rolled his eyes and bent down to capture Harry's mouth with his own. He was soft, gentle, letting his lips slowly caress Harry's, very aware of the other boy's split lip. Louis took his time, thoroughly exploring Harry's mouth, forcefully engraining every curve, every inch of skin into his memory. He tasted iron and pulled Harry closer, as if he could will his bleeding lip better with the sheer intensity of his affection. Only the small, nagging voice at the back of Louis's mind convinced him to pull away.

 

"W-what?" Harry pouted. "Why did you stop?"

 

"Because we have a jet to catch, lover boy. Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for more kissing once we, you know, get away from the terrorist organization that nearly killed you." Louis grinned.

 

"I like the sound of that, Megara. I should have definitely kissed you months ago."

 

"Yes, you should have. But there will be plenty of time to berate you on the way back. Now let's go." Reluctantly, he dismounted Harry and helped the other boy to his feet.

 

"Hey, Lou?" Harry asked as they strode out the door.

 

"Yeah, Haz?"

 

"I fucking love you."

 

"I fucking love you too." And he did, he really fucking did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CRY WITH US.


	21. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was a little stupid, and a lot arrogant, and sometimes, when he felt lonely but didn’t want to think about it that way, he went to balls, where his best friend played instruments and the most beautiful people in the kingdom danced. He looked high and low for the perfect boy to make him less lonely, a boy he imagined had blue, blue eyes and brown hair, someone smaller than him and funnier and… well… better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies,
> 
> So.... I know you all hate us right now, and I can't blame you. We're super late again!! (Though I guess you could count it as being almost a week since the last chapter, so sorta kinda early but not because I planned to post on Sunday and OH MY GOD THE FAILS, THEY KEEP COMING.)
> 
> We have an announcement to make! It's winding down to the last week of this semester, and Cody and I have off of school until mid-January from mid-December. During break, I'm going to write a Sterek fic for the Teen Wolf fandom, and Cody's probably just going to chill, and we'll regroup next semester. So after the next (AND LAST HOLY SHIT) chapter, we'll be on Larry hiatus for a little while. If you have any ideas for stories you want us to write, leave them in the comments and we'll see what we can do. Also, one of our fantastic readers has asked to translate this into, ironically, Russian, so keep an eye out for that, I guess! 
> 
> Now onto our lives. Alex is going to be back in 8 days and we are SO EXCITED. Cody's going with him to Colorado to meet his parents and his brother over break. I would make some kind of joke about praying for him or something, but Cody could charm the claws off a bear; he'll be fine. As for me and the boy (I don't know why I keep avoiding telling you guys his name -- it's Jake. His name is Jake.) Things are going massively well, I think (I hope). He seemed to get jealous and protective when a creepy guy was hitting on me, he laughs at all of my jokes, and we went on a tour of a nonprofit the other day with our class and he never left my side. He opened all the doors for me. I don't know guys, but I'm asking him out tomorrow. TOMORROW OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT FUCK FUCK FUCKKKKKKKK. Send words of encouragement, por favor.
> 
> Also, can I just say that the boys are like blocks away from Cody and I all this week and it is terrifying?
> 
> And arousing??
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

The plane was small, built sleekly enough to fly under Russian radar, but it probably wasn’t small enough to justify the way Louis was sitting in Harry’s lap, curled up into a ball. His fingers flexed, tightly gripping the t-shirt Harry had changed into as they ran to the rendezvous point.

  
“Seatbelts on,” the pilot droned.

 

Louis just glared at him, his head tucked under Harry’s chin, until he threw his hands up in defeat and took off.

 

The radio crackled to life and Agent Cowell’s voice came in. He sounded old and a little depressed. “Thank you for getting on board, Tomlinson. I know it’s what Agent Styles would have wanted.”

 

“You are exactly right, Agent Cowell,” Harry responded gleefully.

 

“Styles??” It was the closest they had ever heard to genuine emotion in the older agent’s voice, and Louis giggled into Harry’s collarbone.

 

“Yes sir, here and mostly unharmed.”

 

“Well, I’m not ashamed to say that I’m happy to hear that,” Simon said. “It’ll be good to get the word out to your friends and family. And of course the other agents. Speaking of other agents, we do need to discuss your relationship with Agent Tomlinson. I’m guessing he is in close quarters to you as well?”

 

“The closest,” Harry replied wryly, looking down at the boy in his lap. “Listen, Agent Cowell, I’m not giving him up. If that means I get put on a desk job or have to quit altogether, I’ll do it.”

 

Louis reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “And if you make Harry leave, I’m leaving with him. He’s too important. It’s both of us as your agents, or neither.”

 

“I give you two a terrorist assignment, you come back and start giving me ultimatums,” Agent Cowell said, but he sounded amused. “Either way, we aren’t letting either of you leave the force. Believe it or not, you have an insane amount of support up at HQ. We heard that last speech, Styles. You are quite the wordsmith. They would have my head if I tried to split you up.”

 

“What about your superiors, sir?” Louis asked. “We don’t want to get you in trouble.”

 

“Actually, the Duchess and her powerful family were so impressed by you two, and by extension, me, that I’ve been promoted. You’re speaking to the new head of the MI-5.”

 

“Congratulations, sir,” Harry said. “I can’t think of anyone better for the job.”

 

“We’ll see you at HQ tomorrow, boys. I’ll let those loud friends of yours know to meet you at Heathrow. It’ll be good to have you back.”

 

The radio crackled again and Louis snuggled even closer, pressing the palm of his hand against Harry’s pulse.

 

“You can never, ever do that to me again, okay?” Louis said. He stared at Harry’s collarbone until Harry nudged at his chin up.

 

“We’re going to be in danger sometimes, Louis, especially me. That’s the nature of the job.”

 

“You broke your microphone, Harry,” Louis said, pulling away. “You fucking told me you loved me and then you broke your microphone. Do you even know what that was like?”

 

“You told me that you couldn’t hear me die, Lou. I thought I was going to die!” Harry said back. He could hear his voice take on a defensive tone, and he watched Louis bristle at it.

 

“What if you had died? Then I would have had to live with the fact that you died completely alone, not even knowing that I loved you. You get closure there, Harry, not me. I would have died a million times in your place, you know that.” Louis sounded defeated and Harry pulled him back into his lap.

 

“Hey. I love you,” he said, leaning their foreheads together. “I love you and I was trying to protect you, but I’m sorry. I won’t do anything like that again, okay?”

 

The tension dropped out of Louis’s spine and he sagged, exhaustion creeping in, until there wasn’t a millimeter of space between the two boys.

 

“Fine. As long as you promise,” Louis said.

 

“So what now?” Harry asked.

 

“I don’t want to fall asleep until we’re back home in our bed. Can you tell me a story?”

 

“Hmm…” Harry said, thinking. Louis curled in tighter and grasped Harry’s hand, playing with his fingers. “Okay, I’ve got it.

 

“Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was a little stupid, and a lot arrogant, and sometimes, when he felt lonely but didn’t want to think about it that way, he went to balls, where his best friend played instruments and the most beautiful people in the kingdom danced. He looked high and low for the perfect boy to make him less lonely, a boy he imagined had blue, blue eyes and brown hair, someone smaller than him and funnier and… well… better.

 

“One night, just when he had given up hope, he found the boy. Or, the boy found him, and he was even better than the prince expected. He was smart and gorgeous and funny, and the prince was far too stubborn to admit that he wanted the boy to stay with him for much longer than one night. So when the boy suggested a quick dalliance in the restroom, well, the prince said yes. One thing led to another, but before he knew it, the boy was gone.

 

“The next day the prince was supposed to meet an ambassador of another city, called Doncaster, and when he showed up, he was shocked to find it was the boy! Then the king told them that they could never be together, just partners, and his heart dropped.

 

“Over time, the prince and the ambassador became the very best of friends. They lived together, cooked for each other, and cuddled each other to sleep. The only problem was that the prince couldn’t stop noticing how beautiful and wonderful the boy was. For the first time, the brave prince was falling in love, and he was terrified.

 

“The boy didn’t seem to feel the same way, and the prince became even more afraid. Their friendship had become the best part of his life, and he knew that if he lost the boy, he would lose himself as well.

 

“Then, the two embarked on a dangerous mission to save a little princess in a tower, surrounded by a roaring dragon. The prince was fighting the dragon when he realized that the most important thing to tell the boy was the words “I love you.” He yelled them across the castle, hoping the boy heard him, because he could not hear the boy’s answer.

 

“After the battle was over, the prince found the boy again. Both of them had been so afraid that the other was dead, that the fear that had prevented them from telling each other their true feelings seemed tiny in comparison. Because the boy did love the prince, even though he was a little stupid and a lot arrogant and nowhere near good enough for him.”

 

“Did they live happily ever after?” Louis asked, drifting off to sleep.

 

“I really think they will,” Harry said, kissing him on the forehead and snickering at the sound of Louis’s quiet snores. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours a day for five days, but he couldn’t find it in himself to sleep now. He stayed awake, looking down at the most precious thing he had ever held in his arms, and like a dragon in a fairy tale, he jealously guarded what was his.

 

#

 

When they walked into Heathrow, their three friends were practically taking security personnel down, trying to get to them faster.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, hugging each boy in turn, “for making you all worry.”

 

Liam clung to him, dabbing at his eyes with a… embroidered white lace hanky? Harry looked over at Zayn questioningly, and Zayn mouthed “let him have it.” And fine, maybe it had been a rough week for everyone, but. Embroidery? Was that necessary, really?

 

When he looked over at Louis, he was already staring back at him, looking as though his brain was going to self-destruct because _so many jokes_. And Harry giggled a little giddily, because that wordless communication? That’s normal for them, they’re always going to be like that, always going to understand each other like breathing.

 

And, wow, his brain quickly translated that to what it would feel like to have sex with someone who understood him at that level and…

_Wait, I can have that._

 

“Alright, guys,” Harry said, sure his face was red and feeling slightly frantic. “I love you guys but I think Lou and I are going to go back the apartment and cool down for a little before we head to HQ.” He looked over at Louis and damn it if the bastard wasn’t smiling and looking infuriatingly smug. Wordless communication was going to be difficult now that Louis knew just how much he wanted him, how much he _loved_ him.

_He’s going to be absolutely unbearable_ , Harry thought fondly. He didn’t think he would mind.

 

“Right,” Niall said playfully. “Right, you’re going to ‘cool down.’ Any bathroom stalls free in the vicinity? Because I feel like you may not make it home in time to ‘cool down’ in a bed.”

 

“Don’t be vulgar, Niall,” Liam said.

 

“But for real, go fuck it out of your system. You guys were already all lovey-dovey before the mission. Now, you’re going to be absolutely oozing,” Zayn said, avoiding Liam’s betrayed glare.

 

“Oh, I’ll be oozing _something_ ,” Louis said, waggling his eyebrows. Harry temporarily forgot how to breathe.  “And anyway, _who_ is lovey-dovey and squishy? Dude, your boyfriend has a handkerchief with your initials embroidered onto it.”

 

“He was worried,” Zayn said, pulling Liam in to pat at his cheek reassuringly. “He ends up on those DIY sites when he’s worried. You know that, Lou!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed Louis’s hand. “Yeah, so since we aren’t pretending anymore, we’re going to head out because Louis’s looking a little too put-together now and I’m pretty sure I need to absolutely _ruin_ him.”

 

Louis’s pupils dilated and he licked his lips before slowly sinking his teeth into the bottom one.

 

“Please, please go,” Liam whimpered somewhere off to the side. “There are children. And what if you get arrested?”

 

Everyone looked at Liam, unimpressed.

 

“Mate,” Niall said, deadpan. “You do know that they’re, like, secret agents, right?”

 

“That’s only more reason for them to follow the law, Niall. They have to be good examples,” Liam, said.

 

Not that Harry was paying any attention. Louis was looking up at him through his eyelashes, standing close enough that Harry could count the freckles sprinkled over his nose. And, holy shit, he was going to have to find a bathroom stall.

 

#

 

“So,” Harry said, dropping his keys into the glass bowl they kept by the door and hanging his coat on the hook.

 

“So,” Louis said.

 

The two boys stared at each other for a long, long moment.

 

“Is this going to be awkward?” Louis asked carefully, wrapping and arm around his stomach.

 

Harry closed the distance between them as quickly as possible, tackling Louis in a hug that knocked the wind out of both of them. “No, Lou,” Harry said, the sound muffled by the crook of Louis’s neck, “It won’t be awkward.

 

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and Harry lifted him, walking him carefully into the bedroom. When they collapsed on the gigantic bed, Harry felt like he was squashing Louis, but when he began to roll off, Louis whimpered in the back of his throat and pushed him back into place. They fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, not even under the comforter. They slept for 15 hours.

 

#

 

“Mmmm…” Harry said, stretching his long frame out before remembering that he was on top of Louis.

 

Louis arched up against him in response, the friction igniting both of them into waking up completely.

 

“Good morning, Agent Tomlinson,” Harry said, their faces too close for him to even look into Louis’s eyes.

 

“Agent Styles,” Louis acknowledged before drawing him even closer into a kiss. It was slow and hot and Harry was completely hard before it was over.

 

“Erm… Louis? I know we haven’t talked anything out or whatever…”

 

Louis scoffed and pulled him back in, pushing at his shirt and his pants until Harry stood up and pulled them off, tripping and falling back on top of Louis with an _oof_ when his pants tripped him up. The two boys wrestled with Louis’s clothes, pushing them out of the way, and then they were grinding together, slow and hard and more than a little dirty.

 

Harry slanted their mouths together, absorbing Louis’s little moans and grunts, before planting a kiss on his forehead, the innocent act contrasting with the less-than-innocent things he wanted to do to him. “I can’t believe I get to have this with you,” he said, panting against Louis’s temple.

 

“Sex? Pretty sure we’ve had this before, Harold,” Louis said, but his eyes were soft.

 

“This is nothing like what we had before, _Lewis_ , and you know it.”

 

“Love you,” Louis said, mouthing at Harry’s jaw. Harry had no warning before he was coming, hard, vision flickering white and black and red and the blue, blue of Louis’s eyes.

 

“You have got to be kidding me, Styles,” Louis said. “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of Lothario?”

 

“Heyyyy, it’s been awhile, okay? You’re the last person I slept with. It’s been _months_ ,” Harry pouted, sliding down Louis’s body and taking him in his mouth.

 

“I forgive you,” Louis wheezed, burying his hands in Harry’s hair and arching up.

 

Harry pulled off to say, “You better,” before diving back in.

 

Later, boneless and sticky, they would apologize for other things, forgive for missed signals and cruel words. They would eat eggs benedict in bed and call their mothers to let them know they were safe and happy and together, and Jay and Anne would laugh and squeal and cry.

 

For now, though, Harry had a remarkably pretty cock in his mouth and a gorgeous boy in their bed and a million fairy tales couldn’t beat the fact that when he walked into Zayn’s club in London that one night, he knew he could get anyone, but when he walked onto the plane home months later, in Russia, beat up and dead tired, he knew he would never want anyone else.

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to with the fairytales and the references to the first chapter...


	22. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now, boys.” Agent Cowell turned to face them. “I’ve known for a very long time that you two were special, that you would become huge assets to this agency. Neither of you have disappointed. To commemorate your success, I’d like to bring us back to the moment when I first realized how talented the pair of you truly were. Trust falls.” Cowell motioned to the decorative balcony behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> So, this is the last chapter. The. Last. Chapter. I can't believe that all of you have stuck with us the whole time, some of you from our last fic, Homeless Houses! You guys are the most amazing people, truly. You are warm and kind, and you've supported us in our obsession with these boys and the ones in our personal lives. We just really wanted to say thank you for all you've done. Like I said, we're going on hiatus for a little while, but I'm sure we'll be back. We love you guys too much to stay away for long! 
> 
> A lot of things seem to be wrapping up. We're just finishing up finals now, and then the first semester of our senior year of college is over. The countdown to Alex's return is down to just four days! The end of 2013 is fast approaching, and...
> 
> Well. I have a date with Jake tomorrow, so hopefully my single status is about to be a thing of the past. It turns out you guys were right. Maybe he did have a thing for me, too. We've been texting nonstop since I asked him and he's AMAZING Gah. I'm a wreck over it. 
> 
> Anyway, guys, we love you always!
> 
> xx Raven and Cody

Louis

“Lou! Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” Harry’s gravelly, still slightly out of breath voice thrummed from the other side of the bed.

 

“Harold.” Louis started, doing his best to mask his own exhaustion with a fine layer of sass. “I know that by definition quickies are supposed to be, well, quick… but I wasn’t aware that they also entailed jumping out of bed and running for the door upon completion…”

 

Harry was already on his feet and pulling on a pair of red, way too tight jeans. Louis sighed happily. He loved those fucking jeans. Really _really_ loved them, almost as much as he loved tearing them off Harry. With his teeth.

 

“Lou! We really have to go! As in we should have left ten minutes ago we really have to go!” The other boy’s voice was insistent, though Louis could detect the underlying elation as easily as if Harry had started skipping around the room in fairy princess wings singing about how he had just gotten laid. Which, come to think of it, was a definite possibility.

 

“Well we could have left ten minutes ago if a certain someone hadn’t insisted on dragging me back to bed like a caveman with a raging hard-on. For the _third_ time this morning.” Not that he was complaining. If he had to die one day, he was pretty sure that death via sex with Harry Styles was the way that he wanted to go.

 

Harry flashed him a grin. “Three times and my bum isn’t even sore. Now get up and put on some pants.” He stared at Louis, his face frozen in horror. “And yes, that will be the _only_ time I ever say those words to you.” He stifled a grin as Harry shook his head and all but ran out of the room.

 

Knowing that it wouldn’t be long until his boyfriend went into crisis mode (was it wrong that he found Harry incredibly sexy when he freaked out? All disheveled curls and bulging biceps and AGRESSION, DEAR LORD THE FUCKING AGGRESSION), Louis rolled out of bed and scrambled about in search of a clean set of clothes. Fifteen minutes and many face plants later (sometimes it was hard getting the skinny jeans over his bum, okay?), he was running his fingers through his hair and bolting towards the front door.

 

“I’m ready!” He said as he went flying into Harry who, impressively, barely budged.

 

The taller boy wiggled his eyebrows and wrapped his hands around Louis’s waist.

 

“You definitely look ready to me.” He drawled, pupils blown, before bending down to capture Louis’s mouth with his own.

 

Louis, as he always did, melted into the kiss. He pressed himself against Harry, their bodies melding together perfectly, nothing between them but heat and grasping hands and suddenly too tight jeans.

 

“Harry.” He moaned into the other boy’s mouth, half trying to remind him that they needed to leave and half begging him not to stop.

 

“Louis.” Harry’s responding groan was instantaneous, and Louis felt it reverberate throughout his entire body. A loud crash registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but Louis didn’t realize until his hands were making quick work of his boyfriend’s belt that he had slammed Harry back against their front door. He couldn’t help it. Harry smelled like _them_ , like sex and vanilla and aftershave all rolled into one alarmingly arousing boy.

 

“One. More. Time.” Louis choked out, his nerve endings so alert with need that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get all of their clothes off before he burst into fucking flames.

 

Harry was evidently having the same problem, and only managed to pull the front of his tee over the top of his head, his arms still trapped in the sleeves, before he let out a string of curses.

 

“Fuck, Lou. I need you inside of me. _Now._ ” His boyfriend’s growl was so primal, so insistent and full of need, that it took all of Louis’s self-control not to explode right there.

 

He yanked Harry’s pants to the floor and then shimmied out of his own.

 

“You sure you’re ready to go again?” He gasped as he reached down to pull a condom out of his pocket.

 

“Y-yeah… I’m sure.” Louis heard the suppressed moan in his boyfriend’s affirmation, and all but tore the condom in half in his eagerness to get it around his throbbing penis. When he stood back up, Harry was already fingering himself.

 

“I don’t think we’ll need lube this time, Lou.” He gasped. “I’m still stretched out from earlier. Now come here. Good God, please come here.”

 

Louis nodded and grabbed Harry around the middle, lifting and pushing him firmly back against the door. Harry snaked his legs around Louis’s waist in response, and reached down a hand to help guide him into position.

 

“There.” Harry gasped. Louis thrust upwards and almost collapsed to the floor as he was enfolded by Harry’s warmth. He could feel his muscles beginning to burn from the effort of supporting Harry’s weight, but the burn only intensified his desire.

 

He lifted Harry, slowly pulling himself out inch by inch, and then brought him crashing back down, the blissful friction causing them both to scream out in pleasure.

 

“Faster.” Harry gasped, his hand now rapidly stroking his own cock.

 

Louis picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming increasingly more forceful as the familiar tension began to build in his gut.

 

“Lou!” Harry whimpered, fisting a hand in the front of Louis’s shirt. Though he knew that only minutes had passed, Louis ached as if he had needed Harry his entire life. And on some level, he was pleased to realize, maybe he had. He slammed upwards with one last, powerful thrust and then their shouts fused together as they simultaneously shattered apart.

 

His legs no longer steady enough to support them both, Louis lowered Harry gently to the ground.

 

“I love you, Louis Tomlinson.” Harry said in between panting breaths.

 

Louis looked down at his boyfriend and couldn’t help succumbing to a wide grin. Harry’s hair was in shambles, his skin flushed, his eyes positively glowing, the top of his shirt still a twisted knot behind his neck, and it was all because he was crazy enough to love him, to love Louis freaking Tomlinson. He bent down and pressed his lips softly against Harry’s. They tasted like warmth and cinnamon and just _Harry_.

 

“I love you too, Harry Styles.” He whispered.

 

Louis felt rather than saw Harry’s answering smile, and God be damned if it didn’t make him feel as if an army of butterflies were doing the tango throughout his entire body.

 

*

 

“Surprise!” A chorus of joyous, albeit slightly impatient voices greeted Louis as he and Harry entered the familiar training room.

 

“AH!” Louis shrieked, assuming a defensive stance before anyone in the room had a chance to blink. He heard Harry chuckle beside him, but continued to direct a murderous glare at everyone around him.

 

“Easy Tomlinson.” Agent Cowell choked through a laugh. “We aren’t trying to kill you. Well not intentionally anyway.”

 

“What is… _this_?” Louis grimaced with a wave of his hand. The normally austere training facility was decorated in its entirety: the indoor balconies were wrapped in Christmas lights of every neon color imaginable, blue and green streamers trailed from the ceiling, and every surface of the floor was covered in a vibrant lilac shag carpet.

 

“It’s your _victory_ party!” Agent Cowell clapped his hands together excitedly and shifted his weight onto the tips of his toes. The man was all but skipping in freaking place.

 

_What the hell is this world coming to?_

 

“I’ve arranged _everything_ to celebrate your and Harry’s safe return.” Cowell continued. “We even got a cake to celebrate the romantic union of our two best agents!”

 

Louis was on the verge of passing out. His boss was _fan-boying_ over his successful relationship with his partner. Rescuing the duchess be damned, this party was an excuse for everyone at the agency to watch him and Harry interact as a _couple_.

 

“You okay, Lou?” Came Liam’s warm, overprotective voice from the front of the crowd. OF COURSE THEY WERE HERE. He narrowed his eyes in Liam’s direction and was not in the least surprised to see Zayn’s giddy form latched to his side. Niall stood on the other side of Liam, his face buried in a massive bowl of popcorn like a starving Tyrannosaurus Rex.

 

“I will have _all_ of your heads for this…” Louis began before he was interrupted by a strong, imperial tut.

 

“Excuse me, Louis.” The duchess flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she spoke from Zayn’s other side. “As I am the only royalty at this party, only I can have the heads of your friends removed. Now stop being sassy and kiss your pretty boyfriend. My bed time is nine o’clock, so we don’t have much time to waste!” The way that she looked up at Zayn when she said _pretty boyfriend_ had Louis laughing despite himself. It looked like the duchess had found her Disney prince after all. One day he would have to make sure to inform her that said prince was _gaygaygay_ for Liam Payne.

 

Though he normally hated surprises on principle, the party exceeded all of Louis’s expectations. Agent Cowell assumed the role of a blushing househusband throughout the event, and could be found fussing over refilling various food trays (which Niall may or may not have inhaled every time that he thought he was alone) more often than not. The agents were forced to play various games, including pin the dagger on the assassin (yes, it is exactly how it sounds and no, despite his caustic wit Zayn could not hit the assassin with the throwing knives to save his life), a twisted version of capture the flag in which the agents tagged one another with stun guns instead of their hands, and bobbing for keys (they were handcuffed to poles while bobbing… yeah). Luckily, all of the excitement was cut short when the duchess commanded through a tiny yawn that the cake eating commence. Louis didn’t even grimace when he saw the two tiny groom figurines, equipped with bullet proof vests and miniature pistols, standing atop a beautifully adorned, three-tiered cake.

 

“Attention!” Cowell barked after everyone had ingested more than their fair share of cake. “It is now 8:45 and I’d like to take this time to ask one more thing of our two lovebirds before we bring this _partay_ to an end.” Louis and Harry, fingers intertwined, nodded and made their way to the front of the room.

 

“Now, boys.” Agent Cowell turned to face them. “I’ve known for a very long time that you two were special, that you would become huge assets to this agency. Neither of you have disappointed. To commemorate your success, I’d like to bring us back to the moment when I first realized how talented the pair of you truly were. Trust falls.” Cowell motioned to the decorative balcony behind him.

 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” Harry said, his hand already tightening around Louis’s in support.

 

“Oh, come on Haz. Why the hell not?” Louis chuckled. The other boy, and everyone else in the room, looked at Louis as if he had suddenly started to take off all of his clothes. Okay, so maybe his fear of heights was a bit more well-known than he had realized.

 

“Seriously.” He said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “It’s really okay, Haz. Besides, once we do this maybe these insufferable romantics will _finally_ leave us alone.” Louis spun around and ran for the balcony.

 

He didn’t hesitate when he reached the familiar, towering ladder. Instead, Louis grabbed the first rung and ascended to the platform with an overwhelming confidence that he had never before experienced. It wasn’t that his fear of heights was gone, really. He could still feel his gut churning when he stood upright on the platform, and he knew that it would be easy for him to revert to a shaking puddle on the floor. The difference was that now he didn’t have any reason to doubt. He knew that Harry would be waiting for him at the bottom, knew that his fall would be cushioned by strong, loving arms that would pull him close and cradle him until the tremors subsided. In short, he knew that he could trust Harry Styles, and wasn’t that the point?

 

Louis walked to the platform and somersaulted into the air (hey, if he was going to put on a show, he was going to fucking _put on_ a show). He heard the gasps as he plummeted to the ground, and had only just begun to worry when he was at last swept up by Harry’s perfect, too-large hands.

 

“What the hell was that?” His boyfriend’s angry breath was hot against his ear.

 

“I wanted to show them something they’d remember.” Louis exhaled, his heart racing alive with adrenaline. “And I knew that you would catch me. That you will always catch me. I trust you, Haz.”

 

Harry pressed his lips against the top of Louis’s head and started walking towards the entrance to the adjacent locker room.

 

“Then you can trust that I’m going to make you pay for that little stunt, Tomlinson. In all of the best ways.” The need in Harry’s voice was unmistakable.

 

“God, I love you.” Louis whispered with a grin. He was beginning to trust that he’d never grow tired of telling Harry that he loved him, mostly because he couldn’t imagine there every being a moment in which he wasn’t completely and utterly in love with Harry freaking Styles.

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Tell us what you think! Are we too weird for you? We're too weird for you, aren't we? We don't blame you.


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